


Hybrid Vigour

by Aleph (Immatrael), EarthScorpion



Series: Ascensions and Transgressions [12]
Category: Exalted
Genre: F/F, F/M, Role-Playing Game, Roleplay Logs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 107,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immatrael/pseuds/Aleph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthScorpion/pseuds/EarthScorpion
Summary: Turning her face from the land of her birth, Keris leaves Taira for the last time. But her return to Saata cannot come so soon. The Hui Cha expect Little River to return with a baby, and her twins are hardly suitable for such. A detour to Hell is needed - for she has a promise to keep.





	1. Chapter 1

Keris is limp and exhausted, so Ney half-carries her back to his place. She’s barely there as he sprints back through the icy air, snowflakes whirling around her and getting in her eyes.

She’s laid down on his soft bed. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re cut up pretty bad, Kiss. I’ve been hurt this way before. You shouldn’t be running or moving or you’re going to scar up. And you don’t want scarred lungs, trust me.” He pauses, dark eyes serious for once. “How are you feeling? Really feeling, I mean. Not just pain.”

“I- I don’t know,” she whispers. “Too... too much hurts. Too much... an’ no Rathan or Calesco t’tell me I did right or wrong, or...”

She swallows. “Maybe Dulmea was right.” Her voice is tiny, more to herself than Ney, or even Dulmea. “But... but she wasn’t gonna... she was leaving, I could just’ve...”

“You know,” he says, “I’m not going to ask you what happened. Even though you should know by now I’m curious as hell about it. ‘Cause it’s torn you up, and right now I don’t think you’re up for trying to stab me, but knowing you, Kiss, you’d probably make a good go of it. So if you wanna talk, you can. If you can’t,” he grins, “it’s just a puzzle for me to find out. But, you know, you’re a mess right now. And I’m still pretty worried about those broken ribs and that punctured lung. You need a doctor, Kiss.”

Keris shakes her head stubbornly. “Leave ‘em,” she mutters, the words slurring. “Deserve it. They’ll heal anyway. Always do.”

“Kiss, your lungs are full of blood and your ribs are broken,” Ney says firmly. “You ain’t moving around until that’s cleared out, and I probably should find you someone who can drain that lung. Or whatever you need to do.”

“No! Nobody... nobody else...”

The shout sends Keris into a fit of wheezing, bubbling coughs for a moment or two, bright red and silver flecks of blood spattering over her hand and the bedsheets. When it subsides, she bares her teeth.

“Fine,” she hisses. “Get... I dunno, I can... fuck it, I’ll just drink it.” It takes a couple of tries for her fingers to unravel into roots, and she winces as she plunges them into her chest. Draining the blood would be hard, and her head is foggy. Drinking it is easier. The quicksilver in it might not be so good for her, but she doesn’t care very much at the moment, it’s in her bloodstream anyway so ingesting some can’t be _that_ bad, and anyway Ney doesn’t know it’s toxic so he can’t nag her about it.

She reluctantly sets her ribs while she’s at it. Now that she’s vaguely thinking along medical lines, she has to admit he has a point. Bones healing wrong is something Keris has had personal experience with, and while her Exaltation fixed her arm, she’s not keen to repeat the experience.

Ney looks more than a little squeamish at the sight. “Man, Kiss,” he says, “you haven’t showed things like this to me before. What are you? Why are your hands turned into… roots? And what are they doing inside you?”

“Draining th’blood, like you want,” grumbles Keris. “An’ setting my ribs. S’how I heal. Roots suck up toxins’n’move through the soil. These do the same in flesh. Or wood, or cloth or... I dunno, alive stuff. Do I ask you how your dumb flash-step works?” She bares her teeth again and hisses as her roots coil around a rib and tug, pulling it back into place with a sickening pop-crack sound and a jolt of pain that makes her vision go briefly walkabouts.

“Well, I mean, you can.” He flashes a grin at her. “I practiced a bunch to do it. It’s all about going so fast that their eyes can’t follow you. It’s not hard, except it is for anyone else. I’m just that good. But I’m not sure how you practice turning your hands into roots.”

Another rib realigns its splintered ends, and Keris groans. The lights blur and swim above her. Talking - even if Ney is being nosy - gives her something to focus on besides how much it hurts.

“It’s... Haneyl’s thing,” she grits out. “My powers come from them. Rathan’s light, or Eko’s speed. S’the, whatsit...” She struggles for words. “Filter. Power, through the demonic stuff in me... means it expresses different. Differently. Fuck, _fuck_...”

Her hair snaps out, misses Ney by dint of a well-timed duck on his part, and breaks a bedside table. Debris scatters across the floor, and Keris sags back onto the bed, panting with shallow breaths.

“Tha- that was... last one,” she gasps out. “Rib. All set. Fuck. Hurts worse now. Than it did. Hate you.”

Ney looks not entirely settled. “That was… not something I liked watching,” he says. “Roots aren’t meant to go in the body - although did you learn it from Malik? It sounds like her sort of thing. Anyway, I can hear you’re still torn up inside, Kiss. You’re not getting out of bed for a few days, minimum. I know how long it takes me to heal. Now, as a bribe for you to be well-behaved and not be a bad patient, what do you want to eat?”

He really is shameless in telling her he’s bribing her.

“I seem. To remember,” Keris says between laboured breaths. “Something about. A promise. Of my weight. In chocolate.”

“... I was hoping you’d forgotten that,” Ney says ruefully. “I guess I deserved this.”

“Yes,” Keris agrees smugly. “So go get it. I’ll nap.”

She doesn’t nap, though. Not precisely, as Ney leaves. Instead she sinks backwards into the soft pillowy bed and lets herself fall into a resting meditation, her mind drifting over her Domain aimlessly to be pulled where it will.

If she spoke to Rathan, he’d tell her that nothing of what happened was her fault, and shower her with sympathy. If she talked to Calesco, she’d judge Keris on whether she did right or did wrong - and should it be the latter, give her a way to atone.

But Rathan and Calesco are gone, and Haneyl is far from her. Who, then, can Keris look to for guidance? Dulmea, who never liked mama or her influence and is probably waiting to say ‘I told you so’? Eko, who probably saw this coming weeks ago and who’ll no doubt say she should just move on? Vali and Zanara, both still too young to really understand or advise her?

Rather than aim herself for anyone, Keris just lets herself float. If anyone _wants_ to give her their opinion, they can call her. But she can’t summon up the effort or desire, herself, to move. And so that takes her swirling on the wind, to the most base part of her. Cold clammy fog claws at her as she’s drawn into the vortex and pulled into the Edgelands for only the second time.

Looking around, Keris thinks she must be near the Swamp. The ground here is particularly marshy, and there are grey, leafless plants covering the buildings that remind her of Firewander.

A deep moaning noise reverberates through the misty world, and Keris can hear - and see - the inhabitants of this strange realm scatter. The Serpent Queen is coming.

Keris finds a building of about the right height, scales it, and kneels on the roof. She has, she finds with some discomfort, brought her wounds with her on this particular trip through her mind’s eye. The form she projects into this realm of hers does tend to vary a little, but injuries aren’t common things, even if she’s suffering them outside.

Then again, these wounds are certainly weighing heavy on her mind.

“Is this something we inherited from her?” Keris wonders aloud to the fog. “You saw her and her po. They were close. They worked together. Even if... even if she didn’t care about it, in the end.” She bows her head. “She even stopped loving the other half of herself.”

The Serpent Queen has a mauled up flank. She’s all bloody there, missing feathers and with warped teeth marks spread up to immensity. The feathered snake moans at Keris, projecting waves of _empathy-pain-sorrow_ at her, tasting the air with an over-large tongue. She seems to decide something, and retracts her tongue, only to open her mouth wider. A white-haired Gale-Keris crawls out of her mouth, sticky with saliva, and tilts her head as she looks back at her red-haired reflection.

The not-her stalks closer, her own flank injured but not caring about it, sniffing the air. Reaching in, she takes Keris’ hand and pushes it to her own injured side.

“She hurt us,” Keris agrees. “But... we attacked first, didn’t we?” She looks up at the Gale - or, no, Gales are Keris’s lesser-selves. Dulmea has her Chords... perhaps Pekhijira’s are her Fangs? “We could just have let her go. But we didn’t. And... and we hit the boat. We chose to hit the boat, and didn’t warn her. If we’d warned her earlier, she could have made it to the shore...”

Both the Fang and the Serpent Queen hiss at Keris. The waves of _contempt_ are directed specifically at Keris. They don’t seem impressed at this. Keris might be guilt-ridden and mourning her mother, but her lower-soul is far less… conflicted. She’s sad, but not torn up in the same way that Keris herself is. She thinks. This is complicated - and the very change might suggest that many of Keris’ feelings here are _not_ coming from the Serpent Queen part of her.

“You’re only half of me,” Keris sighs, wiping her eyes. “Or... the other half of me; fuck, I don’t know. What am I? Am I all of me, in here, or just my hun, or what? I can still feel things, and I’m not like mama was when she was split off from her po, so I guess it must be the first one, but if that’s how it is, why... urgh.” She shakes her head. “Fuck it, I don’t... I can’t think about this shit. Who cares, anyway.”

She shifts position to hug her knees, forcing the Fang to squat down to stay at eye-level with her. The massive bulk of the Serpent Queen circles around the building they’re perched on; wrapping it up in enormous silver coils.

“And papa...” Keris murmurs, after a moment. “I... I can’t even regret leaving papa. He’s happy there. He has his home, and his new wife, a-and... and his rep-replacement for me.” She sniffs. “He doesn’t need me. Or want me, really. I’m half a decade too late for him to take me back, at least. Better to let him live out his life in peace.”

The Fang makes a sad sound, letting go of Keris to slither down her body. She starts to lick the wound, like a dog might attend to their master’s cut. The Serpent Queen coils her head around, to look Keris straight in the eye. _Regret_ she forces on Keris. _Emptiness_. But also _hope_.

A faint smile touches Keris’s lips. “Maybe,” she agrees. She plays with the Fang’s hair a little, enjoying the attention. “I won’t abandon you like she did. I promise. Even if we’re split in two; I’ll still care.”

Pekhijira huffs, a deep rumbling noise that blows Keris’ hair back. Her breath smells of fish and meat. Maybe she’s been poaching Rathan’s orcas while he’s not here. 

Probably best not to mention this to her son.

And then the Serpent Queen is reaching out with her feathered mane, and sweeping Keris and her Fang up onto her back, and the giant feathered serpent is on a mad coiling dash through the ruined world of the Edgelands. She moves with equal ease atop - and through - buildings, fording rivers and coiling through the clouded sky.

Then the journey comes to a sudden end as Pekhijira thrusts her head through the stormwall. They’re on the foothills between the Ruin and the Spires, where the land gives way into floating hills that drift among the stormclouds.

The Serpent Queen carefully places Keris and her Fang down on one of the floating rocks, and before Keris can say anything she’s gone, disintegrating into fog that vanishes on the wind.

Keris is now on a floating rock. It’s very loud. She has a naked and saliva-covered Fang with her, who’s sniffing around the rock, looking for - ah, yes, she just grabbed a mouse-like thing with her hair and is eating it raw, smearing herself with blood as she tears into it.

What the hell was her lower soul thinking?

Another flash and boom, and Keris curses from the noise. There’s a click of stones behind her, and Keris sees a ribbon-horse and a petal cherub by a water-filled hole, doing something involving a fishing rod threaded with ribbons. The ribbon-horse is loaded down with books, and the petal cherub has more notes with him that he’s adding to even as he fishes.

Taking the Fang’s hand, Keris makes her way over towards the pair. A way off this rock would be nice, and they’re high enough that “jumping” is not a viable one.

“Hey there!” she calls. “Who are you, little one?”

The petal cherub jumps. Now that she looks closer, he has bandages wound around his head to help muffle the constant thunder. He doesn’t look much like the kinds of sziromkeruby who hang around Haneyl’s court. His books are battered and hard-worn, he’s wearing things from all over the empire - including a cloudhopper-wool coat that’s sparking even now, and he’s got a little shell bracelet around one wrist that looks like the sort of things she’s seen in the sea.

“What?” He pulls up the bandages, and then flinches back. “Oh, uh, your majesty, I’m not poaching, I’m studying the animals here!” He shuffles to cover up a campfire.

Keris repeats her question.

“Oh! Right! Orobeneta, your majesty! And this is Fefenth!”

HELLO spells out the blue-and-white ribbon horse. THIS IDIOT WANTED TO SEE IF ANYTHING COULD SURVIVE ON THESE FLOATING ROCKS.

“I’m not an idiot, you’re the idiot! And they can! I told you so! There’s things living in the rockpools! Mostly spireslife, but there’s some ruinlife here too and they’re merging together!”

The Fang seemingly understands enough to know there’s food there - or at least smells the things he’s been cooking on his campfire. It bowls towards him and he throws himself out of the way, but the white-haired Keris is more interested in the leaf-baked ribbon-anemones that are in the ashes. She starts scrabbling it up, cramming them in her mouth.

Orobeneta seems about to protest, but one look from the Fang has him backing away with his hands out warningly. “Uh, your queen-ness, do you want something? Because I’m writing about the things living on this island that I think are related to moths from the Meadows. But they’re adapting to life here, so they’re more like worms! Isn’t that interesting?”

“... I suppose,” Keris allows. Honestly, she doesn’t tend to pay much attention to the day-to-day running of her inner world, or the little developments in it. It’s... sort of odd, talking to someone who’s evidently making it his life’s work to study the leastmost akuma-creatures that have sprung from her soul without her even being aware of them. “I could use a lift down to the ground, though, if your friend Fefenth is feeling up to it.”

She glances at her counterpart. “The Fang too, since she’ll probably eat all your food if I leave her up here,” she adds. She’s not sure what to do with her feral serpent-self, but presumably Pekhijira left her with Keris for a reason. Though on second thought, that reason might have been “forgetting she was there” or “getting bored”. Well, she’ll stay close to her anyway, just in case.

“Oh, are you looking for Prince Vali and Princess Eko?” the little petal cherub says, tilting his head. “I saw them over in that direction.”

THAT DIRECTION, his ribbon horse gestures, pointing in the other direction.

“Are you-”

YES, I AM SURE. 

“Well, they were doing something very noisy. I noticed because they made the island rock and scared off the moths I was trying to count and I lost track how many there were! If you find them, can you please ask them not to do-”

A pillar of blue-black lightning erupts from one of the other islands, punching up to the sky and earthing itself into the ground. The rock itself shatters, becoming a cloud of floating gravel. Something snarls, deep and sonorous and makes the dust-laden air dance.

“Yes, that.” Orobeneta glares in that direction. “It’s really not very nice to do that when people are trying to work on filling up their bestiary!” he says sulkily.

Of course Keris isn’t really listening, as she grabs the Fang and ‘borrows’ the ribbonhorse. They approach the exploded island, until Keris sees the unmistakable form of Eko waving her down to one of the other islands. Her daughter is dressed… oddly, even by her standards. She’s wearing bright orange ribbons all over, and has what look like two pillows made of feathers wrapped in ribbons tied over her ears.

Health and safety rules, Eko explains flippantly when Keris lands, letting the ribbon horse go back. It’s the rules that Eko has to wear this when dealing with Vali being very loud, or else she’s punished by her ears hurting.

“What are you doing?” Keris asks.

Training, Eko explains. She’s training with Vali.

“Training what?”

Dragonness, Eko explains with a very succinct hand gesture.

“Eko is wearing orange because she lost a bet with Nara,” Vali rumbles, vast and deep as he crawls onto the rock. Legless, hulking, wings spread wide, his goat-like head stares down at Keris. “Look at me, mama! I managed to become a dragon again! Isn’t it just the best?!”

“Hello, darling,” Keris says. She was half-expecting it, but she still eyes his dragon-form a little nervously. She remembers all too well how uncontrolled and rampant he’d been last time she saw him like this. “How did you manage that, then?”

Buried him inside the middle of a sky island in a really, really uncomfy place so there were sharp rocks digging into him, Eko contributes with shovelling motions.

“I had to get as strong as possible so no one could make you cry, mum!” Vali growls. “People were making you upset so I had to break them! No one makes my mum cry!”

“I... that’s not...” Keris starts, moving to rest a hair tendril on his muzzle. His basalt scales are hot to the touch; heated by the molten rock beneath them. “Sweetheart, I was - am - upset because of things _I_ did. Not... well, not exactly other people. It’s really sweet of you to want to protect me, but...”

Vali exhales, blowing back her hair. “No,” he says firmly. “That’s not how it works. If you did it, you should have wanted to do it. If you didn’t want to do it, you shouldn’t have done it. Crying over things you did is silly.”

Eko perks up. Finally, someone who gets why mama doesn’t need to cling to painful sad things! She just needs to keep on moving!

Keris lets out a breath of almost-laughter, squeezing her eyes shut. Neither Eko nor Vali really have time for grief. They’re not the sort to understand it. But Keris is an old hand at losing things, and even if she’s starting to feel more stable after her utter breakdown and guilt-ridden venting, she knows it’s only temporary. She hit the bottom, down in the Underworld at the river’s edge, and now she’s bobbing back up on the rebound.

It won’t last. As soon as she settles enough to reflect on what happened, she’ll start sinking again. She needs to keep herself active - if not physically, then at least mentally - until she reunites with Rathan and Calesco and the twins, or risk stuttering to a halt altogether.

Eko rolls her shoulders casually, tracing one toe in the rock. It erodes away like she’s tracing it in the dirt. So, her posture indicates with overdone slyness, does that mean that they’re going to be leaving sad depressing Taira? And going somewhere more fun?

“Yeah, this hasn’t been a very fun time for mum,” Vali agrees. “Oh! Oh! Mum, mum, mum, you need to get Sasi’n’Hanny’n’Lili’n’everyone else presents! You _promised!_ ”

“I do, yeah,” Keris sighs. “And... urgh, I’ll be late back to the Hui Cha, so I’ll need something big and impressive for them to show what I’ve been doing. I can use the fleet that the Gullites are watching, but that’s only so good...”

She purses her lips. “So I need presents, a lot of wealth and something to make me happy and salvage _some_ good out of this whole shitty trip through Malra that’s not tainted by failure and death.”

Mama should steal Ney, Eko gestures firmly. And then he and Eko can talk philosophy and solving puzzles and being a super detective and bounty hunter and junk.

“I’m not stealing Adami,” Keris retorts flatly. “Dragons, can you even _imagine_ how Sasi would react to him? Worlds of no. Hmm. Maybe we can head west and find somewhere big to hit on our way to the nearest Hell-gate.” Frowning she tries to picture a map. “Where is the nearest one, anyway? It’s not the one up north of Nexus; we’re too far for that... hmm.”

Lacing her fingers together, she shrugs. “Dulmea will know. Or be able to find a map that has it marked. I’ll wake up and see how my wounds are healing and ask her.”

Vali nods, but his nod quickly turns into a tortured expression on his draconic face. With a howl of disappointment and bright blasts of lightning that break the clouds, he shrinks back down into a nine year old in tattered clothes. Who falls over, fast asleep.

Too bad, little bro, Eko shrugs. But Mama can’t go now! She has a tea party to have with Eko and her friends to celebrate Eko being brilliant and finding a way to get Vali to change and also if she spends more time around Eko’s friends then they might evolve but oops she didn’t mean to sign that out loud. Ahem! What she meant was there will be honey! And cakes!

Keris allows herself to be dragged along - bringing the Fang with her, to much acclaim from Eko’s szelkeruby companions, as well as the fast-asleep Vali, who they variously ignore or coo over. It’s an hour or so later when she cracks her eyes open in the waking world; the tea party not having lifted her spirits but at least having prevented them from falling.

Squinting in the reflected light of the dawn, she probes at her wounds. Good, they’re healing - or at least scabbing over with brass. Holding up a trembling hand to stop the painful glint from giving her a migraine, Keris shifts experimentally. She won’t be mobile for a while - tonight, maybe, tomorrow morning at the latest. She’s comfortable enough for now, though. Ney will probably need to replace a few sheets and furs that have been stained by mercury and blood and scabby flecks of metal, but he can easily enough afford to- _fuck’s sake what is that annoying light that keeps shining in her eyes?_

Glaring through a haze of tears, Keris looks.

Statuesque and proud; the golden edifice of the ancient pyramid the naib of Malra rebuilt to be his palace lies directly west of her window; its shining sides catching the first few rays of dawn and sending them lancing down towards her.

Ever so slowly, Keris’s glare becomes a grin.

((Hmm. Cog + Occult to study the layout from her bed, more successes is more info, there’s a limit as hilariously sight is the one sense she doesn’t have superhumanly good))  
((so unfair~))

After only a few moments, Keris realises a flaw in her genius plan. Ney will be coming back soon with chocolate. He’ll probably see her plans with his sneaky annoying cleverness.

Hmm. Unless... she doesn’t _have_ plans when he comes to see her? Experimentally, Keris breathes out. Red wind swirls out and solidifies into a Gale, halfway through cringing in expected pain.

None comes.

“Huh,” says the Gale. “Not hurt. Man, and normally I’d be complaining about not being you. Hah!” She turns a cartwheel, then notices Keris glaring at her and shrugs. “You’d be doing it if you were me.”

“Just get over here,” Keris grumbles, and yanks her annoying other-self down into a kiss, breathing out her newfound ambition and eagerness and wicked gleeful greed into the welcoming vessel.

Then she swears. Doing that... was not kind to her still-healing injuries. Fuck. She’s just undone pretty much all the progress she made overnight. Ow ow ow ow ow. Why did she think this was a good idea again?

“Just... pick out what you can from here,” says her Gale. “I’ll go scout it from a few different vantage points. And be careful of the sun-commandos, yada yada, I know.”

She hops out of the window with a wave. Grumbling, Keris settles back into the pillows. The eagerness to rob the palace is gone - literally just having jumped out of the room. But she still remembers it. Squinting at the palace through the annoying reflected light, she starts to map out as much as she can of the layout from here.

((OMW-Gale made to go study the layout from a few different points, likely with the aid of Spirit Charms as its Principle/Urge is “I’mma totes gonna rob that place”. Presumably Keris will get that info/those successes when the Gale gets back and remerges with her after Ney is in no position to notice. 2lhl taken from creating it and OMWing it.  
3+5+2 stunt+8 Adorjani ExD {inevitability that bad things happen, unconsidered variable, shreds the best-laid plans}=18. 9 sux.))

Eyes narrowed against the glare, Keris watches it as the sun rises. It’s a tall structure, and from the clear wealth of it - wow, she wonders how much gold leaf went into it. A lot. Although from the way it’s not peeling, either they’re constantly re-applying it or - more likely, she thinks - there’s some cunning varnish or bonding agent applied which seals it in.

There are plenty of windows near the top, and from the looks of things, they’re crystal, not glass. Keris remembers the twinkle of the windows that the very richest Guild Factors had back in Nexus. Someone was paranoid enough to put in crystal windows that won’t break if someone looses a strong arrow at them. But - and this is something Keris didn’t know back when she was a street rat - crystal like that in Hell traps the heat like nothing.

They’ll need a way of getting air in. Or, failing that, some way of replacing the air-fuel that provides them with cool air.

Otherwise, she could probably try one of the balconeys, but she’s just betting they’re guarded and protected and warded. She’s sure Ney could run up this structure and so they’re an obvious place to have secured.

Failing that, she’d need to find a way up from the inside. Alas, that’s not something she can see from here.

Still, if there are air-vents, that’s a potential way in that might not be so heavily guarded. Ney could no doubt reach them, but they could be guarded against him by just making them too small to crawl through.

But what’s too small for Ney to crawl through is not the same as for Keris. Since she imbibed the sap of the Silver Forest, she’s noticed she’s become far more flexible - and she suspects she hasn’t tested the limits of that flexibility yet. Not even close.

Tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the furs she’s swaddled in, Keris whistles idly and waits.

When Ney shows up, it’s post dawn and he’s got food with him. Meat, bread, pastries. He’s also got a satchel of medical implements and pastes and the like - military issue. That’s... honestly, probably also good.

“Food first, then clothes off, Kiss,” he says. “I want to see if you were actually telling the truth and right when you said you’d heal. It’d be pretty terrible if you were choking on your own blood in my bed. La, la, it’d ruin the mattress.”

For all he’s sounding flippant, he can’t hide the concern in his eyes.

“I’m _fi_ -” Keris starts, and proceeds to thoroughly ruin her argument by triggering a short coughing fit that leaves drops of red spattered over her hand. Okay, fine, so her throat is raw and a bit bloodied from exhaling the Gale and her plans of robbery, but that’s just scrapes along her windpipe, it’s not a lung full of- no, fuck it, he’s already in full-blown mother hen mode. Or what passes for it in Adami-logic. Urgh.

Grumbling and with many muttered protests, Keris lets him feed and fuss over her and does her best to tolerate the fretting and enjoy the growing confusion as he examines her injuries. There’s not really any point in trying to hide the oddness of her body now; not after she gave away the root-tendrils while she was half-delirious the other night. And anyway, if he’s focused on that he won’t be looking for what she’s planning.

“Hey, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” he says as she strips for him. “There’s nothing here I haven’t... let me rephrase that. Kiss, that horrible bite on your side is scabbed over in stone and metal and...” he pokes her side gently, “weeping silver. Or maybe mercury. Not sure. It’s runny so it might be mercury, but on the other hand maybe you’re bleeding liquid silver. Though I’d think my bed would be more on fire if it was.”

He squats at the other end of the bed. “Kiss, what the hell is going on with your body? I heal fast - but not that fast, and... are you turning into stone? Is that it? Can I pose you as a statue in my gardens?”

She’s pretty sure he’s joking.

“You know,” Dulmea says smugly, “for all his cleverness, it is a good thing he is too ignorant to recognise the flesh of the King.”

“It’s quicksilver,” Keris confirms. “It’s part of my blood naturally. And I scab over in stone and metal fast, then they come off later. About the time the wound would have healed for you. It means I can get moving faster, even if it takes the same amount of time for me to heal back to normal. I told you that you wouldn’t be able to help much,” she can’t resist adding. “I know my own body, and how it heals. Though...”

She glares out the window. “It would be healing better if I didn’t have a _stupid pounding headache from that stupid gaudy pyramid flashing stupid blinding sunbeams in my eyes for the whole morning_. I’ve been having to fight down the urge to go pour tar all over the top of it. Where’s my chocolate?”

Ney looks her up and down - rather admiringly, it must be said, even if his eyes avoid the scab of metal and stone - and sighs, eyes lingering. “Look, Kiss,” he says, slumping down, “you’ve seen the style of this place before,” he spreads his hands, “I made it a place I can actually live in. Taym hasn’t met a grandiose structure idea he doesn’t like. I’d say it’s a sign he’s not so well endowed, but I checked... so I could make a joke about it, of course, no other reason - and he’s about average. So it’s not because he has a small dick. He just likes giant white and gold structures.”

“I like the way he’s looking at you, Keris,” Zanara - and that’s definitely Zana - contributes. Somehow she’s got into the window room of Dulmea’s tower.

“Hmph,” Keris sniffs, tossing her hair. “That doesn’t sound like ‘yes Keris, it’s terribly gaudy and unattractive Keris, here is your chocolate Keris’ to me.”

“I mean, he’s technically my boss,” Ney says. “I’m not meant to overdo bad mouthing him. Fine, Kiss, he’s got a _spiritual_ small dick. And what if I told you I found you weren’t meant to be eating chocolate when you were hurt.”

He pauses. Keris’ expression seems to dissuade him. 

“Well, you know,” he says, reaching behind her ear with his hand - and stealing a kiss as he does, “the real chocolate was inside you all along.” He presents her with a sizable wrapped portion that smells of rosewater and honey. “How were you so clumsy as to miss it?”

Keris grabs it from him triumphantly and unwraps enough of it to take a bite and moan. Once she’s done savouring that mouthful, she regards the wrapped package thoughtfully. “Do you have a big set of scales handy? Or am I getting more of these when I’m healed enough to set out?”

“Pretty sure you can’t literally eat your weight in chocolate that quickly, Kiss,” Ney says, sitting back. “You just had breakfast.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to _have_ it,” Keris points out. “The having is as important as the eating, really.”

“It melts. Be reasonable,” he says. He starts tickling her toes.

((... heh. Honestly, if he was paying attention, that just told him a major, major part of how Keris thinks - the very core of her Haneylian side, really, with the full force of her 4-dot Possessive Greed Principle behind it.))

“How many-” Keris starts, after a brief attempt at a wrestling match that Ney cut short out of concern when she was barely even wincing, the fusspot. “I mean, how are the...”

She trails off. Honestly, she doesn’t _want_ to know how many died, or how the city is reacting to the double-blow of the assassination attempt and Maryam’s vengeance. Calesco would, but Calesco can’t resist blaming herself for things and seeking out punishment. This once, Keris wants to let herself be selfish and just _not ask_.

“How do they make this stuff?” she settles on instead. “Books! Bring me books. About chocolate. And then dresses, because you said you were going to replace the one I- the one that got ruined.”

“It was really very careless of you,” Ney says. His hands are creeping up her leg and are up to her calves. “I don’t go ruin your dresses, do I? Maybe you owe me a dress and now you’re asking for a new one.”

“The dress was your payment for tricking me into going to the party with you,” Keris ripostes, determinedly keeping her face straight and not reacting to the actually-really-nice feeling of his impromptu massage. “A-and this one is... is a goodbye gift and also in return f-for, ah. For... c-coming back to your place like you begged me to, instead of just t-taking o-ah!”

A man with hands as busy as his shouldn’t be looking so innocent. He flashes a grin at her. “Well, I suppose I could part with one more. But only if you stay in bed until you’re better. I wouldn’t want you to ruin a gift by bleeding on it.” He cocks his head, and leans in a little closer. “Now, what would I have to do to get you to make me a replacement one for the ones you’re taking from me? Hmm?” 

((Per + Athletics + Light Fingered Larcenist Style = 10 successes to help ‘persuade’ her to make him a replacement. :p))

Keris pouts, and hums. “Bring me the rest of my chocolate,” she decides. “And all the Harborite dresses you have. I need some examples to study if I’m going to be making one from scratch.”

Ney grins, and kisses her. “I do think you just got out bartered,” he says, cheekily. “I’ve seen your dressmaking. Your work is worth much more than your weight in chocolate. Well, I’ll be off again.” He pauses, looking back. “Feel free to use any of the medical supplies, that’s what they’re there for. Like bandaging up your side so you don’t get quicksilver on my bed. But don’t bother to get dressed again just for me.”

“I _really_ like the way he looks at you,” Zana confides. “It’s like he wants to stare at you all day.”

Ney returns with his dress samples, and a signed credit chit for a merchant here in the capital where he has apparently made the required arrangements. “There you go, Kiss. I meant it about it melting,” he says, presenting the chit - and an arm-sized wooden box - with a flourish.

((OK, so this is two rolls.  
Cog + Occult to craft it for him, depends which charms you want to use for it for how it takes, it counts as organic materials. Diff 4 for minimum acceptable standards. More successes bumps up the quality. Basic length, 5 days of work.  
Per + Pres to coax info from him, Diff 7.))

“Hmph,” Keris sniffs. “Well, I’ll pick that up later. Now gimme.” She makes grabby motions at the dresses with her hair. “Let me look. And tell me about the things I didn’t get to see while I work. The manufacturing district and the street of gold and the palace and whatnot.”

She accepts the first dress as Ney begins to talk, resting her body and letting her hair do most of the moving and handling as she examines these dresses and picks apart the style. She inserts the occasional question or comment, leading him back around to the palace as she works with uncanny speed and precision. It’s not long before she has him standing as she wraps lengths of cloth around him and marks out his proportions, occasionally jabbing him with a needle to encourage him to stay still.

((Crafting roll: 3+5+2 stunt+4 Kimmy ExD {endlessly giving, impossibly high standards, beauty}=14. Haha! _15_ successes. FWT speed-booster used to do it in one day instead of five; so that Keris will be healed by the end. Does this give me a bonus for the coaxing roll?))  
((srsly, so many 10s))  
((Yes, the quality of the dress reduces the Difficulty by 3, because Keris discovers that Ney has a hidden Principle of “Love of Beautiful Clothes” that she hadn’t observed before. It implies “I need it for my disguises” is just an excuse.))  
((Anyway, for the coaxing; BOT used to soothe his suspicions; 4+5+2 stunt+5 Kimmy ExD=16. Eeesh. 5 sux. Just squeaked it, with the Diff reduction. Yikes.))

Ney is captivated by the way she makes the dress. She strips him down for his measurements, and he just lies there on the bed, watching wide-eyed as shuttle-finger-roots weave wonders from thread and dye and other such things.

Keris works to late in the night, taking things easy so she has time to think - and so she can have a productive planning session with Zanara. She is hurt, after all, so she’s not going to rush it. After quite a bit more chocolate, it’s done the next evening, and she’s been watching Ney all along.

There’s wonder in his eyes. Wonder, and envy, and... something else.

“You like pretty things, don’t you,” Keris says softly, a gentle wavelet cresting to a conclusion in her mind as she watches him watch her. “Not in the same way I do; with the structure of them and how they’re made. You like how they can make you _feel_ beautiful. You don’t disguise yourself as a woman so much just because people don’t expect it.”

Ney smiles. “Oh, Kiss, you and your jokes,” he says with an easy shrug. “No one ever suspects a pretty woman. That’s something you abuse more than enough, isn’t it?”

“And I dressed as a boy when I grew up on the streets,” she agrees, rolling with the deflection. “And R- Rathan’s father; he dressed as a pretty flower girl sometimes. He’d distract people while I pickpocketed them. But sometimes he just liked dressing that way, I think. My youngest before the twins; they’re his too, sort of. They’re split-natured. Sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl, sometimes neither. Sometimes both.”

A hair tendril strokes Ney’s cheek. “You did look gorgeous in that dress you gave me, when you modelled it for me,” she says lightly - not pressing, but neither entirely denied. “I’ll make sure you look even better in this one.”

((Per + Pres.))  
((4+5+2 stunt+9 Kimmy ExD {shameful truths, darkest desires, secret lusts, lol Kimmy is _really good_ at this}=20. Lel, 15 sux again.))  
((Oh Keris. Maybe it’s not surprising that your “type” in a man is a bit of gender fluidity, given how femme-wards you skew in your sexuality.))  
((Ney more so than Rat was, but still.))  
((Ney is using Sagacious Reading of Intent. As a one sentence summary, what is Keris hoping to gain by making that social attack?))  
((To see if she’s right and reassure him that she’s okay with it/likes it.))  
((Well, to _confirm_ she’s right, since she’s pretty sure.))  
((... also man oh man, was he right. That dress is _definitely_ worth more than her weight in chocolate.))  
((15 successes, wtf))  
((SROI... does nothing.))

Ney flinches. Under the smiles and the jokes and the laughs, he flinches - and Keris gets a sight of someone who’s never really fit in. With anything. With anyone.

Someone who’s wearing a mask all the time. Someone who always hung around at the edge of their clan. Someone who never quite had a place. He’s the general of the Malran elite forces now, but he doesn’t fit in with the Malrans and he holds himself apart, keeping himself a mercenary rather than serving the naib. He recruits from Harbourites rather than become a Malran force. 

Back on the streets, Keris knew some people with the souls of women and the bodies of men, or vice versa. She doesn’t think he’s quite like that. But she doesn’t think he can ever be the stand-up warrior that her uncle clearly thinks Harbourite men should be. He’s too sneaky, too cunning, too... too kind in his own weird way.

She wonders what he saw in her and why he’s decided to hang around with her. Some of it is physical attraction, obviously. And the mental stimulation is another part. But maybe there’s some fellow feeling in being someone who just doesn’t... exist within the system.

So she smiles, and lets him change the subject, continuing to weave her masterpiece with root-fingers and hair-vines. But one hand she extracts, and lays over his as she works, in a silent gesture of connection and acceptance.

Of course, Ney wants to moves away from that topic. And that makes him very agreeable. Very agreeable indeed. His guard is... not down, but weaker, and he’s off balance.

And of course, Keris shamelessly uses the beautiful dress she’s making against him. And it is beautiful. It’s a masterpiece in her own style and the Tengese style and something she’s taken from the Harbourite style. It is, literally, one of a kind.

She discovers that there’s a very, very narrow air conduit that goes up from one of the lower floors - less secure - into the naib’s personal collection. It’s thinner than a man’s head. There’s metal grates in there. Ney only mentions it when he’s telling the story of how a rat fell in and died and left the whole place stinking and in the end Nay had to track down where the smell was coming from.

And of course, Zanara is in her head, pushing her on and on to make it the best she can - not just because they love beautiful things, but also - as Zana says - that they _like_ him now.

And in the end, it’s ready.

((OK, you can describe the dress. It’s late afternoon now, and Keris has probably healed some more. But she’ll probably need Ney out of the way for her heist.))

“Well? Show it off for me, I want to see my work,” prompts Keris. Despite his avoidance of the topic earlier, Ney doesn’t need much encouragement to try the dress on - in fact he all but jumps at it - and Keris admires the result of her efforts. It has the tight-fitting upper body of an ao dai, fitting close around the curves and bust that Ney’s corset gives him, while the waist falls out into the broad folds and ruffles of the Harborite dresses. But in her blending of the styles, Keris has added a long slit that comes up to the thigh and reveals the light, airy silk trousers beneath the thick skirt - hinting at lingerie without actually being such, and allowing freer movement and a glimpse at the heels Ney picks out of his costume room to go with it.

She’s also drawn from the tiger-like pattern of the dress she wore to the party, but rather than bold, bright stripes of harsh reds and yellows and browns, this garment is more swirling blues and greens and greys that make the eye slide off it even when it’s right in front of someone. It’s a dress of water and nighttime, not of fire and sun, and instead of straight-angled stripes the colours blend and blur together in curving patterns that bring to mind waves and branches and wind. There are messages hidden among them; a system of writing Keris has created from art that Ney and the naib may figure out, though likely not until after she’s gone. They speak of subtlety and cleverness and guile; a poem of sorts about beautiful shimmering surfaces masking secretive hidden depths.

Her name, in the coded language she’s still searching for a name for, is picked out in tiny pearls directly over his heart. A signature, perhaps. Or a claim.

Ney steps out, and it’s a tall, slender dark-skinned woman with short hair who returns. She could be Ney’s sister in how she looks - there’s a clear family resemblance there. She moves like Ney, though - it’s the same grace that comes from knowing exactly where their body is and what can be done with it.

“So, Kiss,” the woman says, giving an elegant whirl. There’s tears in her eyes. “I’m... I’m really impressed. You should give up the whole secret assassin thing and become a dressmaker. Your skills are wasted killing things.”

Keris grins smugly. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. Are you going to take it for a spin? Ooo! Go pose somewhere that suits it - by a lake or something; it’s a water dress so it needs a good backdrop - and get the naib to have a look at it. I bet you he’ll be impressed and want to know where you got it.” She grins. “How long do you think you can keep him guessing for?”

((o keris))  
((she r feelin very smug that she has outdone the naib’s clothes))  
((her envy principle is purring happily))

Ney puts a hand to - his? Her? Keris isn’t sure how to address Ney - mouth in feigned shock. “Kiss, I wouldn’t show him this,” they say. “He’d ask awkward questions. And I wouldn’t be able to show up to his balls in it as a mysterious and beautiful stranger.”

That wins a giggle of delight from Keris. “Oh, now that I’d love to see,” she beams. “But you should get _someone’s_ second opinion. I want some praise relayed back to me for my talents, from another artist. Not that I don’t appreciate how much you adore it,” she adds with a tip of her head, “but I would feel much better - and probably heal much faster - if I got some stories about how all of the dressmakers in the city were weeping with envy and crushed egos at how utterly and completely they’d been outclassed, just from the glimpses of someone sweeping past their shops in a masterpiece that puts their best and grandest works to shame.”

((Keris is not even trying to pretend she isn’t just wanting to gloat at how good she is, at this point. : P))  
((Ah, Haneyl. Truly, you are your mother’s daughter.))

Ney cocks their head. “Well, I suppose I could see who’s holding a party and sweep in. Although there’s probably not going to be many given... well, what happened at Mashy’s one.”

Keris loses some of her smile. “... yeah,” she sighs. “Urgh, and I’d managed to avoid thinking about that for...”

She pauses, shoulders sagging a little, and shakes her head. “Yeah, um. I’ll take a nap, and hopefully be mostly healed when I wake up. You go have fun. Bring me back stories. Break some hearts.”

Ney instead pauses, sitting by the bed. “Kiss,” they say, folding their hands on their lap. “Please... and I’m not saying you’re right, but if you were right, would you keep things to yourself? I...”

Ney trails off. “Were you telling the truth that... that Rathan’s father didn’t feel always like he was a man?” Ney instead asks.

Keris tilts her head. “... I’m not sure,” she admits. “He...” The old pain. “He vanished, when we were... still pretty young. Just kids, really. We were only just beginning to deal with stuff like sex and feelings and stuff, between stealing and gang scuffles and surviving. I don’t know if he was a woman sometimes and a man at others, but... he definitely felt more comfortable _dressed_ as a girl, some days. Not many - most of the time when he dressed as a girl it was just for the job, but there were times he’d do it just when he wanted to relax, or be treated differently, or look at things in another way.”

She shifts in bed. “We never really talked about it, to be honest. But I _think_ , looking back, that he was a boy most of the time and... and a girl, or at least not-a-boy, a few days a month. Four to seven, maybe. He acted different on those days, even if I couldn’t tell you exactly what the differences were. I was too young and dumb to put words to them, back then.”

Ney sighs. “You know, I heard in Chiaroscuro, you can just... declare that you’re a man, or a woman, and if it doesn’t match your body, you just wear a... a grey veil, and that’s that. It seems... better that way.” Ney straightens up, and gives Keris a winning smile, all openness back behind the mask. “Now, I think I’ll go break some hearts. Unless you’d like to break mine...”

“Wait for me to get back on my feet, you ass,” she fires back fondly. “I’ll stay here and nap. I’ve got broken bits that need mending, after all.” She’s lying there - but then again, she wants him to think she’s more hurt than she really is.

Ney waggles their fingers at Keris. “Well, fair well, my beautiful wife. I’ll bring the broken hearts of men and some women back to salve your wounds.” And with that, Ney sweeps out. It’s a pretty impressive sweep. Not Sasi-level, but Keris is willing to bet that they practiced that in front of a mirror.

Keris listens until she hears Ney leave the house. The happiness and pure joy is something to behold.

Don’t tell Rathan that, Eko motions with a grin. He’d be all disappointed in him. But Eko appreciates a man who understands the beauty of dresses and ribbons.

And now... well, Keris might still be wearing bandages - and nothing else - but under the bandages she’s healed up. There are nasty scabs covering her side and she can hear the sound of living metal in her lungs, but that’ll flake away in time. Right now she’s ready to find her Gale and get towards her heist.

Keris gets up. Quietly arranges the bed so she can slip back into it quickly and easily should she come back. When she comes back, hopefully. She’s not so cruel as to leave like this for good, and Ney deserves a goodbye.

Then she hops out of the window and goes to find herself. It’s not hard. She and her lesser-self both knew what she wanted to do, so assuming she’s scouted the palace out appropriately, she should be waiting for herself somewhere around here, just far away enough not to be spotted by Ney or his commandos.

She finds the other Keris sitting around on the threshold of a temple, eating a bag of sweet things. “Hi,” the Gale says, popping a lump of honeyed almonds in her mouth. “So you’re showing up just in time to steal this from me, eh?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been healing all night and day,” Keris says haughtily, sitting down beside her and helping herself. “So yes, I am. Now, I’ve distracted our clever friend for the evening. How’d you do?”

The Gale reaches into her fur coat - not something she had before, Keris notes - and pulls out a hand-drawn map. “Routes and sitelines over most of the palace structure,” she says, smugly, with a mouth full of almonds. “Couldn’t get as close as I like, because Ney’s assholes are full of bullshit tricks. It’s really unfair. They’re nearly as good as I am, and there’s a lot more of them. But it’s everything I could pick up.”

“Well, I got a possible route into the heart from Ney,” Keris smirks, “so let’s go rejoin and get this going.”

They retire to a more secluded location without eyes to witness what comes next, and Keris lays a gentle hand on her Gale’s cheek. “Ready?” she asks.

“Get on with it, I want my powers back!”

Rolling her eyes, Keris inhales. Her lesser-self breaks up into red wind and swirls into her, becoming once again a part of her, and...

_she remembers all that her other self did; the hours spent figuring out routes, the careful quiet mapping of layouts and sketching with Dulmea’s advice in the back of her mind-_

_she recalls the night and day spent weaving a dress - a masterpiece; how beautiful it was! - with Ney, the realisation of his place between man and woman, the story of the air vent-_

... staggers. Urgh. Realigning parallel tracks of memory is always weird. But now... now she has all she needs to really start.

Time to put her game face on. Keris reaches into her hair, begins to pull out her moonsilver armour... and grins.

There’s enough of the other-her in her head for Keris to hear her own voice whine “Get on with it, it’s freezing out here,” before it’s lost in her subconscious.

The other her isn’t wrong. The moonsilver armour is _cold_ on her skin as she pulls it out. Dulmea must have been keeping it in one of the icy vaults.

If the armour is cold against her fingers as she pulls it out; it’s colder still in other places. It’s Keris’ habit to wear nothing under the plate - it fits like a second skin and when she’s wearing it it feels like one. Sometimes she swears she can even feel leaves brushing against her when she’s in it; as though the moonsilver transmits every touch to her steel-hard skin.

But _fuck_ , does that have a downside when she has to change in this kind of place. A muffled string of curses graces the temple roof as Keris strips down, commands the armour to open up like a flower and steps into it nude. Shoving the clothes into her domain with a wistful look, she crouches - teeth chattering, metal scars aching - in the shadows of the statues up here as she slowly works the stiffness out of the joints and the rigidity from the curving plates and surfaces.

If there was anyone around to hear her, they’d probably be getting quite the education.

She's halfway through a particularly inventive string of curses when there’s a patter of feet overhead, and Keris hastily pushes herself back into a corner. It’s one of Ney’s people, in their masks, skipping across snow-coated roofs like they weigh nothing. It really is unfair how he can train people to be as... well, not as good as her, but better than normal humans.

They haven’t seen her, though, and that shock seems to push her recalcitrant armour into loosening up. That and using her hair to carefully ease all the joints open. Moonsilver doesn’t rust, but there’s a little bit of moisture in wherever Dulmea was keeping it and those had iced over.

Still, eventually it’s done, and Keris is feeling a little less cold. Her body doesn’t know it, though. Maybe she’s trembling from upcoming exhilaration. Better than it being from cold.

Or, she realises with a sinking clench of fear, the hiss of her po in the back of her head. Yes, she’s scared. She’s scared to be breaking into a sun-lord’s safe place, especially when she’s still not at one hundred percent.

((Cowardice Keeps Me Safe is trying to compel Keris to back down and keep away. She needs to either suppress it, or find another Principle of higher level to override it or equal level to contest it.))  
((Love of Art and Greed are both solidly FOR raiding the place, and Envy of the naib is an equal-level contestant against being too scared.))

But as scared as she is, the rewards will be worth it. The beauty she knows she can get her hands on in that palace, the wealth and value it contains, the chance to _stick it to the naib_ whose stupid shining city has twisted her up in knots like this and whose rule is built on slaves... no, she might be scared, but not enough to back down.

“Yeah!” Zanara chirps up in her head. “You tell that stupid snake, mama! We’re going to take all his pretty things!” They break into giggles.

And with that, Keris is off. She has to get into one of the lower levels, without being seen, so she can find that air conduit Ney mentioned. As she approaches the palace, she makes one allowance to her unsettled nerves; letting her po’s inhuman sensitivity settle into her skin until every shift of the air and vibration of the ground stands out. The shining silver of her armour ripples and blends into the colours of the background as she lets her chameleonic camouflage take hold, sparing a moment to admire how readily the moonsilver responds to her magic. It really is like a second skin, and she should do something about the damage it’s suffered one of these days. If it’s this in-tune with her already, she can only imagine how good it would be once restored.

((OK, roll me Phys + Subterfuge, Diff 2 for the initial infiltration. HPC has brought the diff down already.))  
((Mwaa haa. 5+5+3 Lurking Predator+2 stunt=15. 10 sux.))

It’s all so easy for Keris. Moving like a thing with more than four limbs, she’s a shape in the background that crawls up the side of the pyramid, and slides in through an open door a patrolling soldier gratefully steps through into the warmth. They’re not one of Ney’s ones, they’re not the ones on lookout up here. It’s something that reminds her that Ney’s people are mostly Harbourites and might not be fully trusted here.

But now she’s in the warmth of the honey-coloured stone corridors. She saw from the notes that the lower part of the pyramid is the old stone, while the higher up parts are newer and made of marble. Still, the high ceilings are her friend and she scurries like some strange insect along the high places, avoiding the mortal guards below. They do look up sometimes, but she’s just a blur, quickly gone.

With her heightened sense of touch, it’s easy to track down where the air conduits are. She can feel the whir of the fans conducted through the stone - old Shogunate material brought online to cycle fresh air through this structure and prevent the smell of the hundreds - maybe thousands - of people in here building up.

Keris slinks in past the door, and finds a room with a turning prayer wheel made of blue jade. It’s cycling the air as it turns, and Keris can hear - and see - the choirs of little gods around it, singing their duty-songs again and again. She’s keeping well back, though, and not moving too quickly.

But she is going to have to go past them to get through into the duct up the top that leads to the upper levels.

((Phys + Sub, Diff 5))  
((Heh. She _does_ have more than four limbs. : D))  
((Yes, but she’s moving more like a spider than a human))  
((I know, it just amused me.))  
((5+5+3 Lurking Predator+2 stunt=15. _12_ sux. Man, pressure is really bringing out Keris’s best tonight.))

She takes it slower this time, edging past them and making use of the way she vanishes even further into her surroundings when she’s still. Someone who couldn’t hear every last movement of the spirits and feel every tiny shift of the air might have trouble getting past unseen, but Keris finds it laughably easy to predict their lines of sight and stay out of their field of view whenever she’s moving. None of them have the slightest idea of what moves silently past them and deeper into the stronghold.

The most difficult bit is when she reaches the narrow aperture. No wonder Ney dismissed it as a threat. Her head would normally never fit. But she’s going to have to squeeze into it - and to do that, she’ll have to stop moving. Which risks falling. The walls are smooth on the inside, and she can see fine wire grills up above - at least three before the echoes get too confused to hear.

Boy, is she glad she’s not pregnant anymore.

Her hair spreads out like a curtain, anchoring in every tiny crevice or surface detail within her three-metre reach, and Keris bares her teeth behind the faceplate of her armour as she clings with all her might. Holding up her full bodyweight, plus that of the armour, on nothing but what tiny hairholds she can find on the ceiling is no small feat - but she manages it, just about, as she leads with a pair of hair tendrils before starting to force her head into the tiny space.

It’s a sickening experience. She can _feel_ her skull distort, her shoulders twist and liquify, her ribs compress as she squirms into the air channel. She’s honestly glad she can’t see what she looks like right now. It’s bad enough that her skin is telling her she must look like a long silver snake - and not the kind she turns into when she calls on her lower soul, either. She’s a mockery of human form, stretched out like a child’s model in clay that’s been pulled and squeezed by childish hands, wiggling into a space that should never, ever be large enough to accept her.

But she knows with bone-deep certainty that she isn’t hurting herself in doing so. This is something her body _can do_ ; the clay-like malleability granted by the quicksilver in her blood. As soon as she’s free of the solid walls pressing in on every side, she’ll snap back into shape and her bones will become solid once more. Perhaps Oula can do this too; given so much of her is mercury. They’ll have to see, someday when they have the time.

It’s easier once she’s in the conduit. There are little weld-lines on the inside to push against - and after she bites through the first grill with teeth on the end of her hair, she can ooze up past it. 

She tries not to think how easy Sasi would have found this in her tarry shadow form.

But a few minutes of squirming later and she’s into another, smaller room upstairs with its own smaller jade cylinder.

Keris first manages to get her hair out of the grating on the floor, and that lets her pull herself up and out - a silvery tubular only vaguely woman-shaped that springs back to her normal shape once she’s free.

She feels like that time she woke up in bed and found Sasi sleeping on top of her - times, like, a hundred - but she doesn’t feel hurt. Just very, very stretched.

There’s a locking mechanism on the door here. Keris stretches, and nods. It looks familiar. It’s the sort of thing she’d have seen in a rich man’s home back in Nexus for a regular door - nothing particularly secure. Cracking her knuckles, Keris takes in the space around her with a flash of green eyes and listens carefully for any cantrips or nasty surprises in the door - this deep in this fortified a stronghold, she’s not taking any chances - and then settles down to poke her hair into the innards of the locking mechanism, nudging and pushing at the delicate bits and pieces within.

Everywhere. All around her, she tastes sunlight and the warmth of the sunset. The whole place glows. Magical power saturates this whole place.

But the lock doesn’t. It’s just the kind of lock you’d put on a door that you didn’t want people getting into without permission. Keris eases open the door and...

... oh. Oh.

The room beyond is a forest in autumn. Full grown trees with red and orange leaves grow. The sky overhead is blue and tinged with a hint of red on one horizon. The air is rich and smells of leafmold and the forest. A deer pauses, tilting its head - but the animal sees nothing of Keris, who blends into the background.

A second look reveals that there are transparent lines in the air, and when Keris ignores her eyes she can hear the size of the room she’s in. It’s like one of Ney’s big rooms. And when she looks at the trees, she sees they’re actually cunningly disguised bookcases. And there, that bush there is a comfy seat - and there’s old stone ruins that turn out to be a desk with papers scattered on it.

This room looks like Malek’s work. At least, the artistry with the wood. But she doesn’t think the other woman could create full environments inside like this. Otherwise she wouldn’t have had her gardens and greenhouses.

((Hee. I really do love just how _ridiculously_ hard it is to hide anything from Keris when she has all her sensory boosts running. She can hear the shape of a room from the air inside it, feel microscopic seams in the wall where your secret door is set, taste the code on a keypad by which buttons your finger oils linger strongest on.))

Keris slides over to the desk first, melting into the stone and beginning to look through the papers; replacing each one carefully exactly where it was once she’s got an idea of what it’s about. She’s close enough for her hair to reach one of the bookcases, too, and a couple of tendrils start brushing down spines to get an idea of what titles are on offer. There could be valuable information here - though the real treasures are yet to come.

Skimming the books, though, she's disappointed. This seems to be a very... functional place. There’s some books on geomancy, but nothing too advanced - the first one she skims is a Dynast’s travel memoirs talking about what they saw in the Lap, while the next one is a Lookshyian book on bridge building. And likewise, when she looks over the papers, they’re... boring. Tax reports, military movements, reports from spies on the affairs in Perswha...

If she had to guess, this is his office where he does affairs of state. Or maybe it’s not even his, maybe it’s some important underling. Not Mahshid - this doesn’t feel like some kind of place she’d like, but maybe some dragonblood.

Huffing in disappointment - and belatedly remembering to re-lock the door she came through - Keris moves on, blowing an unseen kiss to the oblivious deer behind the window-wall as she makes her way out of the autumn-room. Urgh. So pretentious. She just bets he has a spring, summer and winter room in here somewhere as well. Such a cliche.

She picks the lock to the office, and steps out into a high-ceilinged white corridor just like the ones in Ney’s place Only, uh, not cluttered with everything that Ney sticks in. This is architecture as it was meant to be.

“It’s wonderful, mama,” Zanara breathes in her head. “Why didn’t you go work for him?”

Any response is cut off when Keris hears another door open, and heavy footsteps approach from around the corner.

Her eyes flash green behind her faceplate as she listens to the essence of the interloper, already tensing to move or freeze.

((IEI reading? Keris will react based on who’s coming.))  
((Essence 2, Divine aspected.))

It’s a divinity of some sort - not one of Ney’s sun-blessed commandos, but rather a pitifully weak godblood of around the same level. Keris flattens herself against the wall; stark and white like the decor here and so utterly still that her outline is no more than a ghost’s breath in the air to the wandering eye.

The thing that comes around the wall isn’t human. No, certainly not. It’s an animate statue - and not a very human one. It’s got two arms and two legs, yes, but it’s too abstract to really resemble a person. Its head is a sphere, etched with gold-leaf painted geometrical shapes, and its body is barrel-like.

It also has a bucket and a mop, and is methodically mopping the floors.

Keris blinks. Twice. It’s... an automaton, she thinks? Something the naib has built as a... well, a cleaning servant, with a little god animating it. She supposes it _would_ be something of a security breach to have slaves or even servants this deep in the palace to do menial tasks.

Doesn’t make looking at the... thing, any less odd.

Thus far, the infiltration has been going better than Keris had feared, but not _quite_ as well as she’d hoped. She’s in, yes, and fairly easily at that - hah, and the naib spent so much on making this place secure, only to have her casually ignore it. She allows herself a mocking smirk. But on the other hand, she has yet to find anything of true value. As such, it’s time to go hunting - either for sorcery and valuable occult texts that the naib no doubt has many of, or for precious gems and wealth untold and priceless artifacts.

Both are most likely to be found in the most secure parts of the palace; locked behind vault doors and another layer of guards or defences. So that’s what Keris goes looking for, listening ahead of herself as she pads through the grand hallways and opulent rooms, using her thief’s instincts to seek the hardest areas to crack.

Keris’ progress through the naib’s palace is... educational. He mixes up the tall, white and gold rooms that she knows very well from Ney’s place to these weird inside rooms.

For example, she finds a steaming hot jungle which is a bathhouse at high sun. The baths are as good as anything in the Swamp, and the whole place steams. If she wasn’t here breaking in, she’d want to take her time here, but she just checks the steaming, frog-and-dragonfly-filled space for secret doors and moves on.

Or there’s the meditation room, which is icy cold on top of a mountain. It looks like the mountains she went over on her way to Malra, with tall stone structures on the nearest peaks. But ah, on the other side of the meditation room, there’s another door, and _that_ door burns like the sun to Keris’ senses.

Maybe she shouldn’t go that way. She heard distant voices echoing from elsewhere in this space mention a ‘museum’. But then again, something like this clearly is full of prizes.

((Can she hear anyone in it?))  
((No, annoyingly the soundproofing in here is very good. Whenever she enters a new biome, it somehow locks out all the sound from everywhere else.))  
((Curses.))

She regards the sun-door for a while. Either it’s Mahshid’s place in this grand palace, or the heart of the place and a storehouse of great wonders, or possibly both. It’s certainly dangerous. She can feel her skin prickling from the blazing sunlight even from the other side of the room.

There might be someone in it. On the other hand... there might not. Ney did say there would be a lot of parties tonight. Then again, he also said the naib doesn’t like parties. But then _again_ again, the wake of an attempted assassination like the one at the gala would be just the sort of thing he’d _have_ to make an appearance at, to reassure the people... oh, fuck it, now she’s just second-guessing herself. And freezing halfway through a heist has never worked out well for her. Bar that one time it got her Dulmea - and even then, that was a silver lining to a very, very dark cloud.

Taking a moment to reassure herself that her camouflage remains intact; Keris rolls forward on her feet and starts picking the lock on the sun-door.

((You can spend 1m to be made aware of a potential threat as per Threat-Monitoring Excitement.))  
((I will most definitely spend that mote.))

As Keris reaches out, she feels the world slow to a crawl. The door glows red in her vision. 

Oh, of course, she realises in this terribly slow time as her hand edges closer and closer. Bright glow, private door, inner sanctum, all kinds of defences, not just a sign of power plenty of power in this place no no no this is something else something much more dangerous sunlight yes sunlight trapped inside glowing burning sunlight burn her to a crisp if she touches it probablydon’twanttodothatifshedoesn’tknowwhat’sgoingtohappennononodon’twanttobeburnedup...

((TME alerts Keris to a lethal Shaping curse on the door and gives her a flash of Eko-insight.))

She jerks her hand back, pursing her lips in thought. Well, that definitely confirms there are goodies behind this door. Now... how to get past it? She _could_ just grab it anyway and let the deadly sunlight wash over her memory of Adrian... but that would probably damage the door. Noticeably.

Hmm. Perhaps another way in? She curses again the soundproofing that seems to lock off every internal biome in this damn palace from each other. If she could just listen in on what’s on the other side, she could get an idea of whether there’s air circulating beyond - and therefore a vent she could crawl through.

Sigh. Well, she has a good idea of where the room is relative to her. She might be able to just backtrack, find a vent and see if she can navigate to the room that way. They probably won’t have glowing solar death-portals in place against that.

((Poor Keris, probably freaked out a bit whenever she experiences the full Eko thinking experience))  
((Juuuust a bit.))

She explores further, acutely aware of how the time she has is ticking down. She pauses at one of the vast crystal windows, staring out over Malra. It really is a pretty city from up here, and it only makes the acid churn in her stomach when she thinks about how good it is and how this slave-using bastard doesn’t deserve it. 

There are voices up ahead, and Keris darts in through an open door to find an elaborate room which, apparently, is standing on clouds. The ground appears to be misty cloud, and past the real walls she can see traces of the ground far below. The illusion is much less convincing here, though.

And the reason for that is the marble plinths rising from the clouds, showing prizes and trophies and wonders within crystal cases. And paintings and displays hang on the invisible walls, appearing to float above the sunset.

This has to be the museum, and the speakers she heard earlier are here. It’s that blacksmith she saw at the ball, the fire aspect, along with a human woman who looks much like her. Maybe a sister, or a cousin? Either way, the mortal is admiring the work in here with wide eyes, while the smith - Nazanin, that was her name! - sits on a bench, smiling faintly. She looks much happier here than she had been at the grand ball.

((Reaction + Lore to evaluate what’s here.))  
((5+2+2 Coadj+3 Kimmy ExSux=9. Haha, wow. 8+3=11 sux.))

Keris casts her eye over the assorted offerings, lips pursed in thought. She can only carry so much. There’s a balance she needs to strike between what’s worth taking and what will take up limited space in what she can get out of the palace with. As such, she has to regretfully dismiss several of the larger displays immediately, and instead focuses her attention on the smaller, more... portable displays.

Hmm. Keris casts the appraising eye of a thief over the contents of the room, and comes to a conclusion. Everything here has been chosen for aesthetics rather than power. It makes sense. After all, items of great power are unlikely to be on display in a place like this -because they’re being used.

“I think it’s all very pretty,” Zanara sighs.

It is very pretty. And that’s not to say that there aren’t dangerous things here. For example, there’s a beautiful elegant moonsilver grand daiklaive here, a thing that’s been tempered and curved to look like a giant serpent’s fang. There’s things of orichalcum - necklaces, shields, a king’s helmet, the full battle dress of the first shah - or so the label claims. And there’s countless treasures of Taira’s past, including what might be priceless carvings and statues from the Dragon Kings. 

If she wants money, she could do far, far worse than here. Her eyes narrow. If she wanted to take any of these treasures to the shahbanu, say, or any of the other contestants for the throne she’s pretty sure she could get a fortune for them.

((Keris has located and identified the ‘Resources’ location - raiding this place would be a cash-primary thing.))  
((... very tempted to go for that daiklaive.))  
((Well, Keris still thinks she has time to spare at the moment - especially if she can find a different exit than trying to fit down the pipe which will very much limit what she can carry))  
((Yes. Hmm.))

Keris lingers on several bits and pieces - that moonsilver daiklave is particularly interesting, and appeals to her own sense of aesthetics. But Nazanin is here, and raiding the museum would probably kick off alerts. Not to mention... too much of what’s in here would require selling to other would-be shahs, which sounds like a time-sink that will extend her time in this country even further. Better to focus on things she can take with her when she goes.

She still has time to spare. Maybe if she goes back and tries to find another way into the sun-room, then comes back here when she’s ready to leave. She can afford to set off a few alarms if she’s already on the way out, and while making off with the daiklave would be tricky if she used the way she came in, she can probably find others.

((Okay, Keris is going to put a pin in this place because she doesn’t want to try raiding it just yet, and is turning back to see if she can get into the sun-room through the vent system. If she can’t, she’ll say “fuck it” and tank the door, pilfer as fast as possible, then see if she can swing by the museum on her way out.))  
((Roll me Reaction + Awareness here, before you leave))  
((5+5+2 Coadj=12. 10 sux, 24 for hearing.))

There’s something about the voices that echo strangely in here, though. It takes Keris a bit for it to click, but... ah, yes, she gets it now. There’s another door in here, but it’s hidden. Somewhere among the clouds...

No. Keris grins. It’s not in the clouds. It’s behind that tapestry over there. It’s been positioned to cover up the lines on the invisible walls that a door would leave.

Hair coiling with gleeful satisfaction, she makes her way over to it, keeping a careful eye on the two women occupying the museum. Thankfully, the mortal is cooing over the exhibits and Nazanin is largely focused on her friend... or sister, or cousin, or whoever they are to each other. Regardless, their attention _isn’t_ on the subtle shifts of the tapestry as Keris ducks behind it and investigates the secret door.

The lock on it is sophisticated, yes, and Keris can hear the spell in it- but it’s not as extreme as the death-curse on the door in the meditation room. She knows this kind of lock. It’s one of those ones the bags in Nexus used, that started screaming if someone tried to pick it. It’s a challenge that she’d need an alchemy kit to properly remedy - that, or pick the lock _perfectly_ first time around.

((It’s either a Cog + Occult Diff 4 roll if Keris has the right alchemy set to deal with the thaumaturgy, or it’s Reaction + Subterfuge Diff 7 to pick it with her hair.))  
((Happily, her alchemy kit _is_ one of her fast-access Devil Domain boxes at the moment.))

Terror has a wonderful way of focusing the mind. Keris feels the razor edge of Eko’s intuitive brilliance still lingering in her thoughts as she examines the lock. Everything seems sharper; clearer - as though the burst of high-speed knowledge from earlier has kicked her onto one of Ligier’s lightbridges, where every mental step is assisted and buoyed up and onward. She retrieves her vials and glass tools and pouches from her hair and works with quick, unhurried motions as she dismantles the nature of the lock. One scream here and she’s in big trouble - Nazanin is a Fire Aspect, and Keris is going to assume until proven otherwise that she can do that ear-shatteringly loud yell that will alert everyone in the palace to her presence.

((Does she get a tool bonus from her alchemy kit, or is that just folded into the Diff reduction?))  
((just diff reduction))  
((4+5+2 stunt+4 Adorjani ExD=15. Hooooof. 4 sux. Jegus, that was close.))

It nearly goes very wrong. Keris nearly picks out the wrong reagents for the lockspell, and only a final check before she pours in the acid reveals that she nearly made a big mistake. No, no, no, it should be acid, salt and rosemary to placate _this_ lock god.

But catching herself, she slowly dissolves the lead seal on the inside and removes the divine blessing. Then it’s easy to pick the lock, and she’s through, easing the door shut behind her.

This place is dark, with only a hint of red light revealing it’s outside the cloud space. It’s dusty here, too. And Keris tenses up when she sees there are many of the stange automata here - only these ones wear armour and have sheathed swords. Ah ha. Security hidden away. 

Or guarding something. There are more of these divine golems hanging from the ceiling, watching with their faceless faces. Because Keris realises as she skulks through the gloom, that this is the restricted part of the collection. The things not for public viewing. The less beautiful swords, the dusty books, the crystal skulls that throb with necrotic essence and the things of power.

She looks around hungrily. _This_ collection she can pilfer from, since nobody’s around to see it. And oh my, are there lots of things to pilfer. Yes yes yes, she’s a little spoilt for choice - and also stuck with the dilemma of how to get them out from under the eyes of the security automata without them noticing.

((OK, so what is she prioritising looking for - sorcery, Resources, or artifacts?))  
((Ooo. Hmm. Sorcery, Resources, artifacts; in that order.))  
((OK, so we’re going to have escalating threat in the storeroom, where each extra thing you take increases the risk of being caught. So each time, I’ll ask you what you’re rolling for.  
So, what’s the first roll for?))  
((Hee. Sweet. Sorcery! If I only get out with one thing, I’d like it to be that, mwaa haa.))  
((OK, Reaction + Occult for sorcery rummaging.))

The books are what Keris gravitates to first. Yes, there’s plenty here to investigate; old sorcerous texts and scrolls that make her salivate hungrily at the occult lore within. Keris creeps over to them, looking over each one while perfectly still so as not to alert the guards.

((Using Price of Everything Undercurrents to pick out value for 1m - heh, and I think “this Charm gives the Infernal a perfect awareness of the target quality’s condition, and how much ownership of it is worth to its prospective or current owner” means she can rapidly judge both what it’s worth to the naib, and also how much she’d want it based on her plans and goals.  
So, that’s 5+5+2 stunt+2 Coadj=14. 5 sux.))  
((Ha ha, cunning.))  
((Argh, I’m having to ration motes like crazy here because of all my commitments. : P))  
((So yes, that was very cunning, because it got me more bang for my buck than 4m on Excellencies would have.))  
((Such is the strength of specialised dedicated Charmtech.))

The books in themselves aren’t worth much, Keris is very disappointed to find. No, the very fact they’re in this storeroom is proof of it. They certainly have value, but - Keris can’t help but hiss between her teeth. That bastard! He’s cut pages out of these books! He’s removed the diagrams, the pictures, everything of value. They’d be good for sorcerous research material, but little else.

Ah. But there her eyes light up. Tucked in the back of a display case is a collection of elegant little adamants - half of them pried out or missing, set in a necklace of orichalcum. And the naib might not know what they are, but _Keris_ does. She can hear the writing inscribed on the inside. It’s done with such finesse that a hair-thin brush would be intolerably crude - but that’s the way of the masters of the First Age, wasn’t it? Why not record your magic inside imperishable adamant where only your own supernal senses can read them? Let others see your gems and smile at how they don’t know that this is the source of your power.

Admittedly, it’ll be the work of quite a while to decode these records - because most of them are written in code - but she’s sure that the necklace alone is incredibly valuable.

“Really,” Zanara says, “you’re doing them a favour keeping it safe! What if they tried to pull something so pretty apart for the orichalcum or the adamant! Someone already did! That’s _ugly_!”

((Keris has found some ancient hidden High First Age sorcerer’s jewelery. It’s been damaged enough that it no longer serves as an artefact anchor, but it does have inset adamants with a sorcerer’s spell-records written inside.))  
((Mwaa ha ha haa~))  
((Oh Keris. Yes, that definitely appeals to her. She will steal it.))

She picks the lock on the cabinet, and with her hair slips out the necklace. Some of the ceiling golems turn at the movement - but they don’t seem to have seen anything.

((Now, what does she look for this time?))  
((RESOURCES, BABY. Preferably in a form that isn’t dependent on being fenced in Taira.))  
((OK, that’s Reaction + Awareness for pure value.))  
((PoEU again; 5+5+2 Coadj+2 stunt=14; 4 sux.))

Smirking happily to herself at her find and putting the necklace on to keep her hands free, Keris basks for a moment. Gods and Dragons, it feels so _good_ to get one over on the naib like this. Knowing that he had something this valuable right under his nose and never knew about it, while she found it at a glance... it's a rush better than chalcanth. The temptation to leave him a taunting message informing him of his oversight is almost too strong to resist.

But resist she does, as she turns to the more practical question of cash. Anything she has to fence in Taira is a liability - she’s entirely ready to leave this place - so small and portable and universally valuable is the name of the game. There’s fewer things that tick all three boxes in this room than she’d prefer, but a few bits and pieces jump out at her nonetheless.

Unfortunately, this place is less well suited for value than the pretty things outside. Many of the things in here are damaged - much like the necklace she picked up - or still very Tairan. 

In the end, she winds up caught between prying out the gems from whatever she can and stealing what jade she can find - which would take longer than she’d like - or going for something big. There are jadesteel weapons here, even if none of them are as gorgeous as that moonsilver sword - and there’s a ruby as big as a man’s heart that would be prize of place... if it wasn’t flawed and stained with what seems to be actual blood.

Pursing her lips, Keris thinks. She’s nervous, and despite the Ekoan clarity of thought, it’s knocking her out of her groove.

‘I think... I think I should leave it at this necklace, here,’ she murmurs inwardly to Dulmea. ‘The rest of what’s in here isn’t worth setting off the security, and I still haven’t tripped anything.’ Back on the streets, she’d have gone for the gems, but if she’s learned one thing from her m- from her demonic mother, it’s that she gets better results by _thinking_ before acting, even if only momentarily. And what her thoughts are telling her now is that, with some time still left before she needs to be back at Ney’s and security still oblivious to her presence here, making a play for the vault is worth more than plundering the rest of this treasure trove.

As much as she’d wish otherwise, she’s probably going to set off _something_ before she’s done here. The vault might be further in, but better to set off an alarm in there and bust out with a fortune than trigger one in here and leave with a prize.

‘Back to the vents,’ she decides. ‘I’m going to see if I can get past the sun-door through the air system.’

“Good girl,” Dulmea says approvingly.

((Hee. Oh Dulmea. She is probably feeling very proud of Keris’s caution and reasoning here. Preserve stealth and go for the big target rather than waste her shot on something lesser. It’s a sign of Dulmea’s influence on her.))  
((Cog + Occult, Diff 6 to find a new way in))  
((4+5+2 stunt+5 Adorjani ExD=16. 7 sux.))

Backing out of the secret room and carefully re-locking the door behind the tapestry, Keris painstakingly backtracks to the rough portion of the building that she remembers the sun-door being in and finds herself a vent. Then it’s another few minutes of _squeezing_ inside, and she’s wiggling along with her senses tuned for the painful sun-bright incandescence; safe-ish in a tiny space where no-one is likely to look for her.

Unfortunately, she can’t find a way in through the air conduits. Whatever he’s got set up in there, the naib has an independent air system.

Fortunately, Keris’ hearing and sense of touch allows her to feel the vibrations moving through the structure. And there is the flow of water which indicates internal plumbing in there. There’s a point where the water flow moves parallel to the air pipes. 

The rest is a simple matter of the application of a little bit of hellish fire, and Keris is now a blockage in the water pipes.

And shortly afterwards, she’s crawling in through the toilets. Even for her, the last bit is a particularly unpleasant squeeze.

She pokes a silvery tendril up above water before committing to wriggling out in full, listening carefully for any sounds of people or security as she brings the rest of her elongated body up and into position.

She can hear someone else. Keris can hear his hot, bright humming. He’s an equal to her. But he’s not in the bathroom.

((Solar essence, E9))  
((Keris is going to veeeeery carefully scout out the situation and work out what’s in here and who that is and so on.))

She almost freezes. Almost. But training kicks in, and she undulates out onto the floor and stretches herself back into shape instead, ghosting over to the door and opening it a crack. So far she’s been lucky; faced with opposition she outmatches by far. This - an equal in the same space - is where things are going to get complicated.

The air is pleasantly warm, and she makes sure to dry herself off with the towels before she heads out. Compared to the luxury of the jungle baths, this place is very... functional. Which is an odd term for something made of white stone and gold, but he really hasn’t put as much effort in the place here. Keris thinks this crystal-lit bathroom is just a place he relieves himself and cleans himself up when he doesn’t want to leave the secure door.

Not breathing, she eases herself along the floor and pokes her head out of the curtain.

It’s all one room here. One vast, multi-level room of crystal and gold and white stone. There are spiralling stairs connecting the levels, criss-crossing like strange vines. There are more abstract statue-golems, standing motionless in place or carrying things from place to place. There is a vast golden sunlight projection of the city of Malra - and another one of Taira itself. There are rows of golems sitting there, staring up at them, and working utterly silently.

There are working areas where fine golden and crystal mechanisms sit half-assembled, and there are working areas where statues are being worked on by other statues, no noise escaping from them. There are working areas where papers are littered everywhere and there are working areas where white sand is piped up into new designs of structure.

Keris has only seen a place like this in one location, and that’s Ligier’s layer. Even Lilunu’s workshop isn’t like this.

Envy claws at her chest and pulls her lips back into a snarl.

The naib himself is seated in one of the more comfortable looking areas, feet up, humming to himself as he reads a scroll.

Keris circles him, looking for any clues or weaknesses. He looks like he’s in his late fifties, with silver hair, and while he’s not fat he’s well-padded and comfortable. He has a certain roguish gleam in his eyes. He’s the same colour as eastern Tairans, with paler skin than Keris and grey eyes. He dresses in finely trimmed, neat robes which she can feel the magic in, and he holds himself alert and watchful. There’s a hint of dark bags under his eyes - he doesn’t get enough sleep.

He’s certainly far more... well, normal looking than Mahshid. In that he isn’t wearing half a bank vault’s worth of gold.

Baring her teeth, Keris starts looking for things she can take. Her spine is prickling here - and her training is screaming at her that she could dart in and kill him so, so easily right now. She’s in an assassin’s dream position; right at the heart of Malra’s defences, locked in with its defenceless and vulnerable lord, ready for a fight while he’s still oblivious to her presence...

... no. No, she’s not here to kill him. Just tweak his nose. Wealth and maybe a few pretty artifacts; that’s what she wants. She keeps a wary eye on the many automata as she looks; quick and efficient and intent.

((God, this really does reinforce that Keris is what the Shogunate would call a daimyo-tier assassin.))  
((She had _one day_ to prepare for this.))

What _can’t_ she take, that’s the question? Her main limit is what she can carry. And what he might notice her taking, she guesses. 

“Fayla,” he calls out, and she almost reacts but no, he’s calling for one of his golems.

“What is it, my shah?”

He passes the golem a freshly written missive. “Have this delivered by canvas-wing courier to Illana Javi. We’ll see if she bites this time. Why do people have to be so difficult and insist on taking singular jobs?”

“I couldn’t say, my shah.”

“Well, bother her. She failed me last time. I don’t know why she thinks she’s so valuable as to be able to hold out for more.”

“Yes, my shah.”

The messenger takes the note, and vanishes off. Keris ghosts up behind his notes, and starts reading his notes over his shoulder.

What she sees almost draws a breath from her. And would have, if she was breathing.

It’s notes on Terema. And one of the things he’s got in the centre, circled in big letters, is WHO IS ORANGE BLOSSOM. He seems to know she exists. He just isn’t sure... what she is. “Rival Sun Chosen?” is a big note, but so too is “Moon? Demon?”.

((Ho _hum_. That’ll be useful info for OB.))

So, she thinks. Illana was working for the naib down in Saha - and Keris ruined that for him without even knowing. She feels a smug thrum of satisfaction at that. His things are so beautiful and his domain so grand... spiting him is a _joy_ , every time. Showing that he's not so high-and-mighty after all; this sun-bright Bag who builds on the backs of slaves is as good as sex with Sasi. There’s a brief, Ekoan temptation - a very, _very_ strong temptation - to tap him on the shoulder and laugh in his face at how badly his security has failed.

Which would be a terrible idea. But she might have to sketch what his expression would look like, later. It’d be _hilarious_.

Ghosting away again, Keris starts picking her targets. Wealth and sorcery and artifacts are what she’s here for, and that’s what she’ll take. If she’s quick and quiet and careful, she can grab an armful of the most valuable bits and pieces that look waterproof and then get out the same way she came in. At that point it’s a straight run to the outside, by whatever route she can find.

((Well, one thing she can find in here is there’s a section for the canvaswings. If she wants to go over there, she can probably steal plans or even a working model.))  
((YESSSSS))  
((I have been forgetting my Envious Heart bonuses - does this count as attacking his traits?))  
((So, it counts for the stunt bonus, but she’s not observing, studying, or JBing right now.))  
((Hmm. That means the autosux bonus never counts for sabotaging someone’s Backing or even assassinations; only to passive study and attacking people in combat.))  
((If you can’t use studying someone’s friends against them, you’re not the woman I think you are. Also, remember, you’re still getting the bonus dice from increasing the stunt rating. As long as you’re furthering the principle, +1 stunt rating.))  
((Well yes, this is true. Disappointing, but fair enough.))

The first thing she goes for, with a sense of vindictive delight, are the papers left out near several small models of the canvaswings she so adored. There’s a sense of poetry to stealing them first, given that they were the first of Malra’s wonders to catch her eye. Slipping up to the models, Keris admires them for a moment and sneaks a full set of blueprints for herself.

The model even folds up like the compact ones do. She can literally fit it in her belt purse, so she does.

((OK, Reaction + Occult to study the room for things within the criteria you’re looking for))  
(( _Now_ I can study. Mwaa haa. PoEU used to enhance. 5+5+4 stunt+2 Coadj+4 EH autosux=15. 8+4=12 sux.))

Point won; Keris lets her eyes wander in search of targets. There’s so _much_ here that it’s hard to pick... but among the many, many things she wants, she can’t help but be drawn to those things the naib will feel most sorely when he finds them gone.

All in all, there are three things that really draw her attention. 

Firstly, the no doubt nearly priceless collection of Shogunate-era jeweler’s tools sitting on one of the working areas, beside a giant diamond that’s being cut and several other well-cut precious gems. The diamond is probably worth a lot too. Especially if it was cut, say, with those tools. But Keris has seen the Daimyo-and-Yellow. She knows that there would be buyers for those things in Saata. If she didn’t keep them for herself and use them.

Secondly, her eyes widen in spiteful hatred as she sees the stacks upon stacks of sorcerous diagrams and notes. That must be where he’s keeping the bits he cut out of those books in the backroom! The bastard, taking everything of value and keeping them in this death-sealed room! And his own personal notes! Oh, if only she had Rounen here to copy them - but he’s with the others. She’d have to make a getaway with them.

And finally, and most strangely, there’s a crystal sitting on a pedestal of obsidian. It’s whispering faintly. Keris can hear the whispers, and every one of the conversations she overhears seems to be about the naib. That’s one hell of a potent magical gem, if that’s true.

((She’ll go for the resources, then the crystal, then as many of the notes as she can grab quickly. And then she’ll bug out.))  
((Okay, so it’s going to be ~escalating rolls~, so for the gems and tools first, Phys + Subterfuge, Diff 3.))  
((Wheee, escalation~))  
((Also, can I Theft as Release the whole combined theft with one invocation?))  
((Well, each “option” is one theft at this level of resolution.))  
((Right. I’ll have to pick just one, then, because I have _somehow_ managed to nail matters so that I have just enough left to use Theft As Release once, and then be down to exactly enough motes to hit my po-Shintai, which I want to keep in reserve just in case.))  
((5+5+3 Light-Fingered Larcenist+3 stunt=16. 7 sux. TOOLS ACQUIRED. Also pretty gems. Yum yum yum.))

The naib is paying no attention as Keris steals his gems - and a fine soft-leather bag of his to hold all the precise lenses and the cutting tools. Zanara is cackling in Keris’ head. But now she’s painfully aware that the timer is ticking, because as soon as he looks and realises the gems are missing, he’ll be alerted that there’s someone else in here.

((OK, so it’s now Diff 7 to steal the scrying crystal))  
((5+5+3 Light-Fingered Larcenist+3 stunt=16. 10 sux. So far so good. Theft As Release used to cut his ties of ownership and stop him noticing it’s gone, for 3m, 1wp. Otherwise the shift of the whispering will tip him off.))

She slinks over to the crystal next, fingers itching. This is going to be tricky... and the whispers mean she should probably call on Eko to stop him noticing it’s gone. There’s a moment of tension as she weighs its positioning... and then she swipes it and cuts the bond of ownership in one smooth, beautiful movement. For a moment she's back on the streets, riding the sweet bliss of snatching a Bag's beltpurse or a piece of pretty from a high-end stall in the Little Market.

And at that precise moment, the crystal stops whispering. A noise which had been in the background stops. And the naib looks up. He looks confused.

((Oops, that breaks the attunement. What does Keris hope to gain by making him forget that he ever owned this valuable artefact? : p ))  
((Ideally, I was hoping that if he forgot he ever owned it he wouldn’t realise something was amiss when the attunement broke - at least for the crucial few minutes it’ll take her to filch some sorcery texts, leave a sketch of a keris in their place and hurriedly sneak back to the bathroom.))  
((Or at the very least, that he’d vaguely think something had changed but not know what.))  
((Yeah, that’s fundamentally hostile to him, so his activation of SROI is catching the Illusion.))

He exhales as he looks over where the gem is. Or where it should be. He doesn’t see Keris, who is blending into the background as if she isn’t there, but he sees his scrying crystal isn’t where it should be.

“Thief,” he hisses. And then he straightens up. “Thief!” he shouts. “Lockdown! Heykal! To me! Defend your shah! Secure this place!”

As one, every single statue straightens up, golden Old Realm characters lighting up all over their white marble surfaces.

((Crud.))

Keris casts a longing look at the shelves of sorcerous texts. So, _so_ tempting... damn it, she should have gone after those before the crystal! But she already had the necklace, and she’d been all but certain that such a valuable collection of his personal notes would be trapped, or have security measures on it like the lock behind the tapestry upstairs.

Urgh. Well, two out of three is better than nothing. Now she needs to get out. She’s safe as long as she’s still, but sooner or later he’ll use some sort of magic to scan the area and she doesn’t trust her stealth to stand up to that. Back to the bathroom it is - and she’ll quietly pray that she makes it without being spotted. If he’s busy combing his personal space for the thief or their entry route, he won’t be able to stop her getting out of the building.

((A problem. She won’t necessarily be able to get back down the pipe with all her loot. Other solutions may be required. There’s the door - though she’d need to resist the Shaping effect that’d try to kill her. Incidentally, TSSS rejects Shaping effects for free. There’s also the ceiling - she could smash out through the crystal ceiling elements that are currently shuttered and escape out that way. There may also be other ways out - I’m flexible depending on your ideas.))  
((Drat, I was hoping the stuff she’d taken was small enough.))  
((Nah, the tools are sizable - and breakable.))  
((... well, I mean))  
((If she’s going loud _anyway_...))  
((Could she go lamia, grab a random hairful from the bookcase on the way past and then smash the door down?))  
((Why, yes she could. :D))

Except, she realises with a sudden chill of horror, the tools might not fit. And... _fuck_ , it doesn’t matter, because this man is so paranoid that some of his automata are searching the goddamn _bathroom_. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. She’s caught. She’s trapped. She’s... she’s...

A feral hiss, at the back of her mind. Slitted eyes behind the silver visor narrow.

_She’s getting out of here_.

With a scream of shucked restraints, Keris takes on her true form for the second time in as many days. But this time there’s no tearing of cloth. Her armour shifts _with_ her, so beautiful-cunning-clever. The legs melt away as her glorious coils expand, and it forms an armoured skirt over her hips to cover up her vulnerable human half. Something in it seems to respond to her new shape, too, because it gains feather-pattern reliefs all over its shining surface; her stealthy chameleon-cloak melting away now that it’s no longer needed. Her hair goes white beneath the moonsilver, her teeth turn sharp, and the naib shouts in fear and shock and alarm...

... but Keris doesn’t care, because with a triumphant cackle she’s shooting towards the door; sending automata flying away from her gorgeous muscled coils and leaving scars on the marble floors from her feathers. Her hair whips out as she passes the shelves, grabbing a double-armful of books and scrolls as she passes, and she rears up to meet the painful glowing sun-door with a crash.

((OK, Keris has a Phys + Athletics feat of strength against the door. She needs 15 to get through, aka “punch through a stone wall, kick an iron reinforced door to splinters”. She also has a Phys + Athletics dodge, contested against lots of golems doing a coordinate Phys + Melee attempt to dogpile her and pin her down.))  
((The golems have a base dicepool of 6, and 4 autosuccesses from sheer numbers. 3 + 4 = 7 successes to try to pin her down.))  
((Yeah, with her TSSS buffs she’s got 5+5+9 TSSS+3 stunt=22 dice, and is also a 15-metre long razor-feathered lamia in superheavy plate armour moving at nearly 50 miles an hour. The door is fucked.))  
((Forget the door, Keris doesn’t actually need it. She could literally just bust straight through the wall.))  
((...))  
((Which would be a greater fuck-you to the naib?))  
((Wait, I know. She’ll take out the door and a chunk of the wall next to it, just to prove that she could have avoided the door but didn’t need to, and also make repairing it harder. :V))  
((...to go in a straight line to grab his display-piece sword. Sigh.))  
((The daiklave? Yeah, she’s totes grabbing that since she’s already gone loud.))  
((And then declare you’re taking your sword while being all moonsilver.))  
((... yes, sigh. That is appropriately bitchy for Keris to do. So yeah, she’s beelining for the museum. And the golems are honestly kind of fucked even if they succeed, because trying to grapple lamia-Keris is an excellent way to die horribly. But in order to not slow her down; 5+5+3 stunt+3 Friagem Serpent=16. 9 sux.))  
((OK, yeah, his very expensive golems get... well, run over. And dashed by her feathered scales.))

The gold-glowing golems snap to position, moving with inhuman coordination to block Keris’ escape. They try to dog-pile her, they try to drop down on her, they try everything they can in the brief few seconds they have.

They’re up against a colossol moonsilver snake-woman, armoured and feathered and terrifyingly unstoppable. 

Keris cannot be stopped. Her tail is pure muscle and she’s a mass of silver, moonsilver, and bone. Stone shatters under her bulk as she just plain smashes through them. They try to block her at the door and she just barrels through them. Stone limbs go flying. She laughs as she wrecks them, delightedly crushing them to the floor and shredding them. Every marvellous thing of the naib's she breaks is another hilarious victory for _her_ side of their unofficial contest, and she's _winning_ against the greatest of his works and the safest of his strongholds and it feels _amazing_.

Sunlight discharges as Keris hits the door, and explodes. It stings slightly. She feels the sunlight try to seep into her and burn her alive. 

She rejects it.

((Keris takes 3B, which is all that gets through her soak.))

And then she’s through the door and the surrounding wall, and into the naib’s meditation chamber - and through that next wall and into the corridors beyond.

There are horns blowing and bells clanging and Keris simply doesn’t give a flying fuck. She smashes down the door to the museum, so full of pretty things and gems and that glorious two-handed moonsilver blade.

((If Keris wants to make a distraction speech or use Passing Off Blame, now would be the time.))

“What was stolen is reclaimed!” she screams, more out of spite than any actual concrete goal. She doesn’t know for _sure_ that all the stuff in here is pilfered, but it’s a fair bet, and if she can send the naib chasing breezes for a while she considers it well worth the effort. “Let the thieves of Malra know what they have done to others!” A swipe of her tail explodes the case for the serpent-fang sword and she hefts it with both arms, whirling it thrice above her head. Hah. It’s even fitting. She’s a serpent here to reclaim a snake-themed sword.

Why is she saying this again? Ah, she realises. Of course. She hadn’t thought about it consciously, but... a moonsilver sword? In a museum like this, in sun-worshipping Malra? From everything she’s heard about Taira, that screams ‘Pershwan trophy’ - some part of her must have realised that as soon as she saw it. And now... haha, yes, now people will assume she’s a Lunar from down there getting it back. “So pay all who defile our sacred ground!” she adds, charging towards the window with a cackle. The thought of the naib charging off after the _wrong culprit_ , of fooling him even when she's being _this_ loud and obvious, is the funniest joke she's heard in years. The sword breaks the crystalline glass with a wonderful crash, and a coiled spring of her lower body sends her shooting out onto the slope, leaving a trail of scratches all the way down the side of the pyramid.

Laughing madly, flush with triumph and not even caring about the emptiness inside; Keris makes for water.

((Per + Expression for her LIES. Phys + Ath, Diff 4 for her getaway.))  
((HILARIOUS LIES: 4+5+3 stunt+3 Mendaciloquent Maverick+1 bonus {forged evidence or “proof”}=16. 10 sux, lol.  
ESCAPE-FU: 5+5+3 stunt+4 TSSS=17. 7 sux.))

It’s night, and it’s snowing, and Keris is loaded down with loot but also acutely aware that she was not exactly subtle with that. She needs to think about what to do next. Whether to go back to Ney’s, in which case she’ll need to stash her loot somewhere, or just... leave.

She also, she realises, just soaked the notes she stole from the naib with her plunge into the water.

Muttering sullenly to herself, she finally lets her caste mark flare as she pulls out some dry clothing from her domain and carefully folds the splashed pages into it; each sheet with a layer of fabric on either side that will suck out the moisture before it runs. Coiling up and holding herself at around her usual height, she considers the loot she’s obtained and the situation she’s created.

Can she go back to Ney? Well... probably? She put on a pretty good show of being a Perswhan Lunar there, and he still hasn’t seen her armour or her lamia-form. She didn’t use her spear, which he _has_ seen... yeah, if she can get back to the house quietly and maybe reopen a wound, she can pretend to have been asleep in bed for the whole thing. Though she might need to pull the same trick with the Gale as before, to stop him catching onto what she’s hiding. Oh! She can pour her _memory_ of the heist into the Gale, too! Haha, yes, this is a great idea. She giggles. Gods, she's having so much fun with this.

Hmm. She’ll have to make the Gale while she’s in bed. Which means leaving the loot safely here, reasonably well-hidden, for her Gale to pick it up.

Right then. She can hide the stuff, wait until she reverts to boring tiny human form, then head back and say goodbye.

Keris digs in the frozen earth, and covers up everything as best she can, smoothing snow over the top to make things look like it was never disturbed.

Then it’s back to Ney’s, to see if he’s back yet. And he is not. She tucks herself up in bed and - with a pained wince - nibbles on her side wound enough to partially reopen it. Ow ow ow _ow_. But yes, good. That will look like she’s not as healed as she was, and is only just getting better. Rebandaging herself, she lies down, tucks herself in... and exhales.

Keris looks down at Keris, and bites her lip. “We haven’t done _this_ before,” she murmurs. “Are you sure?”

Keris nods. “Keep my memories safe for me, yeah? I’m going to want to remember this.”

Her Gale grins. “I’ll get started on that sketch while I wait. Okay, hit me.” She leans in for the kiss, and Keris pours out...

... _glee spite satisfaction triumph wickedness taunting smug mocking envy-fulfilled..._

... Keris blinks. There’s a Gale standing over her, looking dizzy. Did... did she just make a Gale by accident? While waking up, or something? She tries to sit up, and there’s a twinge of pain from her side. She bites down on a curse.

“Uh, okay,” says the Gale, looking almost as confused as she is. “Well... screw it, as long as I’m out and uninjured, I’ll go pick up a few things for the trip. Some more chocolate will make Rathan and Calesco happier when we catch up with them, and I can look for some bits of artwork for Lilunu. I’ll wait outside the city for you to finish saying goodbye to Ney, yeah?”

“Uh... sure, yeah,” Keris nods. Her head is a little foggy, and she feels exhausted. “I’ll... mmph. Take a nap.”

“Good plan.” There’s a teasing gleam to her double’s eyes. “You’ll want to be on full form when Ney gets back in that dress, after all...”

She dances out of reach of Keris’s retaliatory hair-swipe, cackling, and exits via the window. Settling back down onto the pillows, Keris yawns. It’s later than she thought it was. What... what has she spent the evening doing? Napping?

Mmph. Another nap sounds good.

She drifts off, feeling strangely content and pleased with herself.

It must be about midnight when Ney shows back up with a whirl of skirts and cold air in through the window. That’s enough to wake Keris.

“Hiya, Kisssssssssssss,” Ney sing-songs. Keris can taste wine in the air. “Tonight was fuuuuuuuuuuuun.”

“Mmph,” she greets him, yawning. “Oh yeah?” She admires the dress again, shifting to sit up against her pillows and dragging her eyes up and down his - or her, at the moment - form with no attempt at subtlety. “Well...” she prods cautiously at her side, and wrinkles her nose. “I think my wounds have mostly healed, so why don’t you come sit on my lap and tell me about it, hmm?”

“It was greeeeeeeeat!” Ney sings, taking Keris’ invitation and flopping over her. “Everyone called me pretty and bought me drinks and I didn’t have to be a boring leader at all. They all wanted to get me into bed!” Ney pats down the dress. “I might’ve done it if I didn’t have someone waaaaaaay more beautiful waiting for me at home~”

“Did you let them down gently, or brag about how gorgeous your bedpartner of choice was?” Keris smiles, stroking Ney’s hair and petting her. “Who would you say looked most disappointed when you refused them?”

Ney grins. “Javad Norouzi! My so-called rival! Hah! Didn’t realise a thing! Was all like ‘baby I love you’ and ‘I’m the real spymaster, I run things around here, Ney’s just a braggart’.”

“No, never,” Keris says, trying not to giggle.

“I flirted with him mercilessly ‘cause if he realised something was up, he’d actually be worthy of being m’rival!” Ney throws out her arms. “And the worst thing was he was really cheap with the drinks he bought me! Here’s... here’s the most beautiful girl in the room, and he on’y gets me plum wine! And it was kinda acid.” Ney’s head slumps on Keris’ shoulder. “Notlik’ you. You’re really sweet you know?”

Eko is giggling in Keris head. Ney is a happy drunk, she observes. And mama is super cool and super fun and really clever. She’s been great tonight.

“And how sweet are you?” Keris asks, walking her fingers over Ney’s dress. “This is probably goodbye, now that I’m healed. Are you going to give me a good send-off?”

Ney bats doe-like eyes at Keris. “Awww. D’you have to go? You’re so nice. And pretty.” She wriggles up against Keris, slipping the dress down. “Aren’t you still hurting? Can’t you stay a bit longer?”

“I need to catch up with my children,” Keris tells her, not without a hint of regret. “But... well. I do have presents for you, before I leave. Four of them, actually - the dress was the first.” She lowers her voice; sultry and soft. “Would you like the others?”

Ney grins foolishly. “Only if you can tell me you weren’t involved with all the stuff that was going on at the palace today?” she slurs.

Keris frowns at her. “You were _with_ me all day, Ney,” she points out. “I was making your dress, remember?” She cocks her head with a grin. “Exactly how much have you had to drink?”

“No no no there was stuff this evening too,” and suddenly Ney sounds much much more sober. “Tell me you weren’t involved in that, Kiss.”

“Oh.” Keris shrugs. “Nope. I felt woozy after you left and took a nap. Actually, I think I was out pretty much until you got back, bar one brief wake-up where I still felt exhausted and went back to sleep again. S’probably why my wounds are mostly closed up now. Or maybe I put a bit too much effort into that dress.”

“Oh.” Ney perks up - or, rather, de-sobers. “That’s fiiiiiiiiiine then. I wan’ all the presents from you~” Warm and wine-tasting lips are pressed to Keris’.

Keris rolls her eyes. “Far too much to drink, apparently. Alright, well... I was thinking...”

She slips the dress a little further down, popping open the clasps with nimble fingers and easing it open to run a finger down Ney’s chest. “You get your tattoos for big things; important events and stuff, right? Well... I’d say that meeting me, the quest to find papa, the... the fight I got hurt in. All of that. Wouldn’t that all be worth a tattoo?”

Ney pouts. Keris is fascinated by whatever sun-granted magic is going on, because the dress is down to the waist and Keris still can’t tell Ney from a born-woman. She massages Ney’s chest, and it all feels real. And Ney’s acting like they’re real, too.

“I mean, you think you’re worth all that?” Ney asks. She pauses, tilting her head. “Yeah honestly you kinda are. You’re my very own demon lover. You’re one hell,” she giggles for a little longer than appropriate, “one hell of a girl, Kiss. Kinda wish we’d got to fight properly. Instead we just wrestle. In bed.” Ney flops onto Keris. “Maybe I’m drunk but it seems like a goo’ idea to me!”

“Well then,” Keris purrs, “lie back and I’ll give you a massage so you feel nice and relaxed, and give you a tattoo to remember me by. And then you can unwrap your third present.”

“What’re you thinking, as a design?” Ney asks, wriggling down to oblige. “Oh yeah, ask me ‘bout which bit of skin to do it. Don’t wanna waste it on some of the bits which’re going to peel off when I take off this thin’.”

“Mmm, well... I was thinking the obvious? A little keris.” She grins. “And a bonus for you: it won’t hurt a bit!” She taps his skin. “Good point on where, though. How _are_ you doing this? I thought your disguises stopped working when you took them off?”

“There are disguises and there are disguises,” Ney says, nodding owlishly. “I still got this one on. Some of it’s mindset, ‘cause you expect to see a beautiful lady and so you ignore the bits that don’t quite fit. And I can do great things with shading and contouring and dyed leather.” She holds up one finger. “We prob’bly shouldn’t get in the bath together unless you wan’ it to all fall away! ‘Cause glue you can boil up from stuff is holding a bunch of it on.”

“Impressive,” Keris praises. “So, where do you want this tattoo?”

Ney frowns - again, sobering up in a way that leads Keris to believe that as usual, she’s playing a role and isn’t as drunk as she’s acting. The two of them really are very much alike. With a few deliberate motions, she peels off the rest of the dress, showing the full breadth of the talent. “Well, I have a few spots,” Ney says. “Inner thigh. Small of the back. Few other places in that region. Because the placement matters - and you’re a thing of my love life so that’s where you should go.” She grins. “What about something with a pair of lips and a keris, Kiss,” she counters with a grin. “I’ll do it if you do it.”

Keris rolls her eyes - and then stops rolling them to admire the view. “Mmm. Well, I do like a lady with a knife strapped to her thigh,” she teases. “So hold still, I’ll give you that keris... and we can talk about where I can put my lips for your third present. Hmm?”

“Mmm. Maybe sure to make it work with my skin.” Ney rolls her eyes. “It’d be so much easier if I was even as pale as you, let alone most Tairans.”

“Yes yes, I know.”

It doesn’t take long. Keris keeps her root-tendrils mostly hidden as they paint the flower-dyes under Ney’s skin; a black three-wave kris edged in white, superimposed over a red lip-print the same shade as her hair. It’s small and relatively subtle; not gaudy or ostentatious - but it’s a definite mark on Ney that’s all hers. Another claim, if she wants to think of it that way.

“And now,” she whispers, crawling up her lover in the same sinuous way as her po tends to move and flicking open her own dress, “it’s time for that third present~”

Even tipsy, even in the middle of all this strangeness, Ney can’t resist getting the last word in. “Going to make me a woman?”

Teeth bared in a grin, Keris elects to show, rather than tell, her answer.

The next morning, Keris wakes before the sun rises. She’s aching and scabbed and scarred, but she’s also sated. 

Ney is asleep beside her. The... vigorous night has ruined the disguise, and now Keris can see the leather pouch Ney was using to tuck and conceal. She’s... impressed. It’s a lot cleverer than Keris’ way of doing things with melting her shadow over herself.

She runs her fingertips over the tattoo. It’s taken well. She likes how it looks. How Ney looks.

But she’s going to have to go. Maybe before Ney wakes.

She has one more gift to leave, though. Finding herself a bowl of water, she sits down and stares into it. She’s done this once before - the ritual to create a newborn mezkerub outside her Domain by scrying for the child-that-will-be in echoes of the future. It’s one of the stranger ways of birthing new keruby among their breeds, but she remembers how.

And a mezkerub is perfect for this. She can leave Ney with a little apprentice - an apprentice who she can check up on to make sure Ney treats her right, who will provide Ney with some occult expertise and the ability to sense essence like Keris can and he can’t. Who’ll have an innate sense of Calesco’s morals to keep him on the straight and narrow, and whose natural gifts of stealth will fit in perfectly with Ney’s commando force.

She feels a little guilty for making her without a connection to the greater keruby collective; to the proto-culture they’re already developing within her domain. But even there, a mezkerub is best suited to being a kerub alone. Unlike any of the other breeds; mezkeruby can learn about what they are without having to be taught by their elders and peers, though their scrying bowls.

This little one will be a gift, a test and a lingering connection. And she’ll go on to do great things. Keris knows it.

((And with that certainty, the Happening is set and the kerub forms around it. : D))  
((OK, yeah, so Keris can stunt-create this one faster than the usual 4 hours. :p))

The water turns black, welling up as tar as it forms a pillar and emerges as a tar-cherub.

“Oh, hello,” it says. Keris honestly can’t tell whether they’re male or female yet, which might be... well, maybe a consequence of what she knows about Ney. But then again it’s hard to tell the sex of young keruby apart. “I think I didn’t exist before now. Is this existing?”

“It is,” Keris says gently. “Hello little one. Have you seen what your name will be?”

The mezkerub tilts their head. “I think it’s going to be Ahkmi,” they say, uncertainly. “I don’t think I’ve had a name before. I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.”

“Ahkmi. It’s a good name,” Keris praises. “My name is Keris. I saw you in the water as an aide for my friend Ney. He’s a good person, clever and cunning and kind - but he doesn’t know much about the mysteries of the world, and there are many things he doesn’t see. Will you help him with those?”

The little black blob tilts its head. “Yes. I will!” it says, delighted. “I’ve seen it, you know! I’m going to help him with all sorts of things! And I’m going to do something really important for you, because you made me!”

Keris gathers her little descendant-deva into her arms for a hug and a careful kiss on what’s probably the forehead. “Yes,” she promises. “You will. I need to leave before Ney awakens - will you give him a message for me? Tell him that you’re the fourth gift, and that I’m trusting him with your care. Tell him I’m sorry I didn’t say a proper goodbye, but that it was time for me to go. And say that I enjoyed our time together, very much - and that I hope we meet again.” She winks. “Hopefully _we_ meet again, too,” she adds. “Don’t let him think he can cope without you, okay?”

“Right!” Akhmi nods. “If I’m not useful, I won’t do my really important thing!”

She leaves the little mezkerub wandering around the bedroom, sorting through discarded clothing (“looking for prophecies”, they claim), and then Keris leaves via the window. She slips outside.

It’s just pre-dawn, and the weather is brightening up. It doesn’t look like it’s going to snow today. 

There’s a woman waiting for her at the gates. A woman who is her. “Took your time,” says the Gale, hands up her long sleeves. “Last night was a cold one. I’ve got a small camp, but I deserve to be spoiled. You got the better half of the deal, not having to worry about being caught by the naib.”

Keris frowns, not quiet understanding the comment. “What did you manage to get hold of?” she asks. Inwardly, she feels Eko fall over laughing for some reason and gesture excitedly from the floor of Dulmea’s viewing dome that mama needs to follow herself super-quickly so she can get the joke.

Bemused, Keris lets the Gale lead her a fair ways out of the city, to a makeshift camp that... that has... that has a...

Leaning on the _grand moonsilver daiklaive_ that’s almost as long as she is tall, her Gale smiles like a cat that has not only got the cream but also annexed the dairy.

“Oh, you know,” she smirks. “A bit of this and that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keris is grinning like a cat as she gathers her stolen loot, the memories of two selves re-united. This is a very, very useful trick. A very amazing one, really.

“But,” Dulmea says, “one not without its downsides. Yes, child, you have done well today, but what of this will you speak to the All-Thing about?”

Keris purses her lips. “I infiltrated Malra, stole a bunch of stuff, confirmed the naib is looking into Orange Blossom... and I guess, initiated into the Sapphire Circle.” She frowns, morose for a moment, then shrugs. “That part alone should be enough to draw attention off what else I did here.”

“And if Orange Blossom finds out that you revealed yourself - and your caste mark - in front of the lords of this place?” Dulmea prompts.

“I... will try really hard to make sure she doesn’t? Fuck it, if I have to I can tell her flat-out that they have the wrong idea about what I am and think there’s no connection between me and Hell. And she’ll know I’m telling the truth, because she has the same lie-sense Sasi and Ney have.” That prompts a scowl from Keris. “Why do I know so many people who can _do_ that, anyway?” she mutters. “Those Dragonblooded down in Agenete could do it as well. S’really annoying.”

“I would suggest being proactive,” Dulmea says. “I suspect she will find out anyway, so approach her first, perhaps, and pay her off with copies of his sorcerous note and the intel about his plans you gained. And then, perhaps, brush any... mistakes you may have made under the justification that you made them while getting close to the leaders. After all,” Dulmea says slyly, “were you not in disguise at the ball when you were forced to reveal yourself when an assassin attacked? Or some other story of that nature. You do so like to lie without lying.”

Keris laughs softly. “I suppose, yeah. Urgh, but if I do that now, it means backtracking to Terema. And I’m really not in the mood for another talk with her. Hmm. I guess I can send her a message telling her to meet me next time she’s in Hell? I’ll be there for a while dealing with Kerisa, and she spends a lot of time there as well.”

“She wasn’t in Terema last time,” Dulmea points out. “Perhaps she might have a left a way to contact her in Hell. And on that note,” Dulmea clears her throat. “Which way are you thinking to return, child?”

Keris closes her eyes, reaching out with her mind. She learnt back when she was first taught about her nature that all Infernals can sense the nearest entry point into the Endless Desert, but she’s rarely had to do it herself. Still, she remembers the theory, and opens her senses to the feeling of silver sand and endless black skies.

((Spending 1m to instinctively sense the nearest entry point into Cecelyne and the Demon Realm - base Infernal anima power.))   
((Hmm. It says “sense”. It really isn’t clear whether that’s direction or a description of it or what. Hmm))   
((I mean, by intent, it’s so that they can always find their way to Hell.))   
((Yeah, so, hmm, I guess, direction and very rough distance?))

In the chill morning, Keris can feel something that feels almost like a breath of fresh air compared to the sunlight. It’s to the west, away from the rising sun - but it isn’t close. It’s maybe as much as five hundred miles away. Still closer than the place she knows in the Scavenger Lands, but she thinks they’ll have to head across into Harbourhead, across the mountains to get there.

((Heh, Taira has changed in shape a fair bit over the course of the game - and grown as I developed it more. That map isn’t all that reliable anymore - Malra’s larger and to the south west of where it was.))

“Guess I’ll be remaking the airship,” she mutters. “Okay, I’ll catch up with the others and send Orange Blossom a messenger. Then we head west.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that, child,” Dulmea says darkly. “Remember, they have canvaswings. The airship is too obvious. It might be a better idea to hunker down covertly until you have enough ribbon-horses to carry the slower members of your party, and then set out with all due haste. Maybe even stay away from the others and lead the would-be hunters on a false trail until you have enough demons to carry them all.”

Eko nods soundly. When granny puts it like that, an angyalo could get to that location in, like, a day! Even less maybe! Oh! Mama should go there on her own first, make the location safe, and use it as her summoning location for the cutest ribbon horses Eko has!

“... yeah, fair point,” Keris sighs. “But nobody’s going to be happy about this, least of all the twins. They weren’t happy about anyaglo-back the first time. But if it’s only for a day, we’ll deal. First, though, we can afford to catch up and check that they’re okay.”

“And if the naib still has sorcery that would let him track you?” Dulmea says sharply. “We are still on his land, child. His powers are not to be underestimated.”

Keris hesitates, considering that.

“... _urgh_ ,” she eventually decides. “Fine. _Fine_. The girls, Xasan, Rathan and Oula, Calesco, me and the twins... that’s four anyaglo, plus Cissidy. Four days, then. And I can’t send any _fucking_ messengers until I catch up, because I need to cast through Rounen or Cissidy and neither of them is here. So...” She bares her teeth. “South it is. I’ll set a trackable route towards Pershwa faster than Ney’s commandos can cover ground.”

Notes and gems packed away in her Domain; the sword still slung over her back, Keris runs; a fleeting silver ghost across a snowy landscape. Though as she heads down south, out of the mountains, she finds that the ground is thawing. Winter is passing, and the ground is muddy and slushy.

It’s just after midday when she hears her first canvaswing. Their leathery flapping is oh so familiar to her ears. And there’s more as she runs, this time closer. She angles to let them get a glimpse. Just a single glimpse; a glint of silver over a hill before line of sight is broken; the distinctive shape of the sword held over her shoulder as she runs. Then she calls on her chameleonic stealth and the metallic colours leech away from her armour as it takes on the hues of the snow and mud around her.

Much harder to spot.

With a rush, the canvaswing comes around - but of course, Keris is gone. She leads them on a merry chase - even if the armour weighs on her. Urgh. She doesn’t think she’s ever worn it for so long without a break. By nightfall, she’s aching. 

Sunset is coming. She makes sure she’s well out of sight, hiding herself in a pine forest, as she prepares for her first summoning. This would be much harder if she had to rely on the slower sorcery of the Surrender Oaths.

((Endurance + Athletics, Diff 2 from the armour’s fatigue value, after 8 hours wearing it.))   
((3+5+2 stunt=10. 8 sux. Does Fatigue even count if she’s running while... ah, no. It counts, but the penalty is suspended while she’s running. And then comes crashing down when she stops moving.))   
((Yes, also you have to make checks every 8 hours spent wearing armour, even when sleeping, so when she’s running she has to make checks.))   
((Anyway, yeah, she’s really starting to feel why other people wear padding in their armour, but not enough to obstruct her and she can summon her demon horsie. :p ))

Listening carefully to the rustle of the trees and the soft patter of the snow, Keris reassures herself that nobody is nearby, and takes an upright spear stance, balanced to move in any direction at an instant’s notice. She spreads her hair wide.

“ ** _I call upon you, with the authority of my domain and the summit of my souls,_** ” she intones; her caste mark flaring to life on her forehead as she reaches _inward_. “ ** _Citizen of my empire, servant of my souls, I summon you now! Ribbon-horse, fleet-footed, swift-runner! I have need of a steed in Creation! Come to me now, anyaglo!_** ”

The world tears open like curtains, and out from the hole comes a midnight black ribbon horse. Eko is also visible through the gap for a moment, giving Keris a thumbs up. She gestures she made sure she found a pretty one for her darling little sister. 

And then the hole closes itself.

LADY KERIS, the angyalo spells out, kneeling before her. It is strange to watch a six-legged horse kneel, but she manages to pull it off.

“Greetings, citizen,” Keris says. “Will you resist a binding? I need to make sure you don’t get distracted by the running.”

PRINCESS EKO HAS PROMISED ME CERTAIN THINGS, the demon gestures. I AM VELVET. PRINCESS EKO GRANTED ME THAT NAME BECAUSE SHE SAID PRINCESS CALESCO WOULD LIKE IT.

Keris grins. “She will,” she says. “And you’ll be pleased to hear we have a lot of running to do in the next few days.”

GOOD.

Over the next few days, Keris builds up her demon-horse stable - and as she heads further south, the number of canvaswings drop off. They don’t have the stamina to keep up over such long distance. And one of them crashes, its wings losing power and it glides to earth.

Then when she calls the final one - a yellow and white one called Banu - they turn around.

Keris pulls out all the stops for this. Thus far, she hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Ney - probably because he’s guessed she’s laying a false trail. She is more thankful for that than she can say, because her plan if he’d shown up on her tail had been “pour on all the speed and run like hell”. But now that they’re angling back, the odds of encountering him are going to start rising again, and she really, really, really does not want to have that confrontation.

So she jukes and detours and dodges and cheats and uses every trick she knows to make sure her little stable of ribbon-horses move swiftly and stealthily across the landscape, following her heart to the trail her Gale would have taken from Malra. All she has to do is find the path they took - and from there, a trail of blood-red tendons will lead her straight to Kuha.

It’s in a little town by an old glass road that she catches up with them. It’s still dark, but she and her horses have run through the night, losing the canvaswings entirely. 

She finds Kuha on top of a high-roofed building perching there and wrapped up in layer upon layer. She looks male now, but it’s pretty recognisable if you know her. Or if she’s staining the whole roof red to Keris’ vision.

“You took your time,” Calesco says tensely. “We have been on an ore boat, mama. An ore boat. I have dust everywhere. The babies have been crying and I am utterly sick of this stupid pox-ridden ugly hateful slave-filled stupid country! Do you hear me, mama! I am sick of it!”

“Good, because we’re leaving as fast as possible.” says Keris as she slides off Cissidy. “I just spent four days laying a false trail for a flight of canvaswings, and from what I heard of their conversations the naib wants me dead, or possibly delivered to his giant compensation pyramid in a dozen finely-sieved boxes. ‘Furious’ is probably an understatement.”

“Good. Good.” Calesco balls her hands into fists. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I left Kuha, then? You can take her back. I’ll just be out and about. I’ll return back _home_ at sunrise. Back inside you. But there are a few things I need to resolve, and this way I won’t slow you down.”

“... if you’re thinking of going and doing something damaging,” Keris says carefully, “you should probably be aware that I already snuck into his innermost sanctum, stole a bunch of his priceless sorcery notes and several probably-irreplaceable artifacts, smashed a giant hole in the side of his palace on my way out and scared a decade off his lifespan. Malra is swarming with guards and war-golems right now. I really, really do not advise going back there.”

Calesco cracks her knuckles. “I don’t care about the capital. We were on an ore boat,” she says, voice ice cold. “We went past a mine to pick up a load. I’m not going to kill anyone. I just have to show some people something. So they won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

((You can deny her this, and as long as you give her hugs, she’ll probably accept it, because she’s upset and angry, but not at Keris and proof she hurt the naib will be enough. Or you can let her go off seeking punishment))   
((Keris hasn’t struck directly against the slaving parts of Malra yet, so she’s of a mind to allow this.))

Keris pauses, processes, and nods slowly. “Okay. Okay, but be careful, alright?” She steps forward and folds Calesco into a hug. “We’ll talk more when you’re back in the Meadows, okay? Take Velvet with you - Eko chose her for you, and she can move faster than you can fly.”

Kuha slumps forwards, but Calesco remains sitting where she was, protruding from her back. With careful motions, Calesco pulls herself out like a woman climbing out of a hole, hands against Kuha’s shoulder blades as she pulls free.

Then the odd moment is over, and Kuha groans. “Ow. That bit hurt, Cally.”

Calesco sweeps her up in her arms. “Oh, no, no, I’m so sorry! I don’t want to hurt you! You know I never would, right?”

“It’s fine. It’ll pass.” Kuha tries to rise, and fails, collapsing forwards. “Ow. I feel as weak as an owlet,” she groans.

“That’s probably because your body has got used to having my power to draw on,” Calesco says, shaking her arms and legs out. “I feel a bit stiff. And... oh, you still have wings. And you’re still pale!”

She’s right. Kuha has white feathered wings sprouting from her back, and she’s lost all colour in her skin and hair.

Calesco reaches out, gripping Keris’ arm with one hand. “Thank you, mama,” she says. Keris looks her nearly eye to eye. She’s taller, and obviously older in how she’s filled out, though she’s keeping the same daughter-like look she wore for her party. She might be nearly as old as Rathan now. “I promise I’ll take care. And I’ll send you good dreams of what I do to them. Which one is Velvet?”

“The black one,” Keris says, kneeling down beside Kuha and checking her over. A brief look reveals nothing to worry unduly over, and she stands again. “Be smart,” she tells her daughter. “Remember this place has people who can hurt you. And do good.” They embrace, and Keris kisses her gently on the forehead, watching as she mounts up and rides away.

Then she turns back to Kuha.

“Okay,” she sighs. “I’d like to have a proper look at you, but we need to move. So I guess you’re riding with me.”

“I feel like I could sleep for days,” Kuha says weakly. “Being possessed really does a number on your body and...” She trails off. “Kerishyra, I... I think she left talking your language totally behind!” She drops into fluent Rivertongue and Old Realm as she speaks. “I think I’d be too tired to use your hard words anymore,” she adds with a yawn. “But it’s easy now!”

Keris quirks a faint grin. “You got two things out of the bargain, then,” she says. “Go ahead and sleep. I can load you onto a ribbon-horse in front of me and keep you there whether or not you’re conscious. And I wasn’t kidding about how furious I made the naib. We should be going.”

It doesn’t take long to assemble everyone, because Keris is determined when it comes to dragging everyone out of bed and practically dressing them herself. 

“Your sister’s off doing something,” she tells Rathan.

“Yeah, I knew she’d go off,” he says with a yawn, rubbing his eyes. “I wasn’t too happy about what we saw there either. If it’d just been me and her... well, I’d probably have herded all the mine overseers into it and collapsed the entrance. They deserve to die underground.”

But anything more is interrupted by the happy cries of Keris’s babies at the sight of their mama. And the almost as happy sigh of relief from the childcare Gale, who’s looking harassed.

“Hey, babies!” Keris coos, her game face breaking for a moment in favour of a happy smile. She gathers her twins into her arms, nuzzling into Ogin’s tummy and blowing a raspberry on Kali’s cheek that makes her shriek with laughter. “Were you good for mama? Or did you tire her out? Have you been playing safely?”

“Baba _bo_ ,” Kali tells her earnestly. “Mama _bo_ , wanna riff ah, mama!”

Keris cuddles her harder and blows another raspberry. “Mama is back with you, little feather,” she sing-songs. “And we’re about to go on a big adventure! So we need to get ready. Ogin, what have you got there?”

It’s one of her hair ornaments. She rolls her eyes and lets him keep it, weaving them both into a secure hair-sling that puts them high on her chest and close to her face. Turning to Xasan and the girls, she bites her lip.

“Okay, decision time,” she tells them. “We’re leaving Malra, and we’ll be going down some risky paths in order to get to where we’re going. Will you come with us?”

“You’re my niece, and you’re going to the only family I have left,” Xasan says. “And... I didn’t warn you enough about Maryam. I’m with you until the end.”

“What do you think, Calesco?” asks Heba.

“Uh... Kuha,” Kuha says from where Keris put her down. “Calesco’s off putting other things right.”

“Oh. Well...” Heba looks at Keris, “... would she say we should go?”

Keris thinks about it. “She won’t like me taking you the route I’ll be going,” she answers honestly. “You won’t like it. Honestly, _I_ don’t like it all that much - at least not the thought of taking you through it. But I think she would want you to come to the Southwest with us, and unfortunately, we don’t have another way to get there.”

Fatima crosses her arms. “Will we be safe?” she demands, and pauses. “Uh, compared to staying in Taira, that is.”

Tap tap tap, go Keris’s armoured fingers against her hip. “It will be scary,” she admits. “It will be uncomfortable. But it will be safe as long as you’re with me. I’m strong enough to protect you, and I will be there every step of the way.”

Heba, Fatima and Kashma huddle. Keris overhears their entire conversation, of course, and isn’t surprised when Fatima faces her and says, “Okay. Yes. We will. You’re... you’re a fancy lady who deals with people like the Jackal. You’ll always need more house servants - haven’t we shown we can do it? And Kali and Ogin know us. And Calesco saved our lives. So we’ll come with you.”

“Right,” Keris nods. She expected this, and now has a second problem. Explaining to them where they’re going. They still don’t know she’s Hell-aligned.

... which means she should buy herself some time to think about how to broach it to them, and get moving now.

“Then mount up,” she orders. “We have three anyaglos. Xasan, you take one. Rathan, Oula, you take another. Girls, the third. I’ll ride Cissidy with Kuha and the twins.” She nods at her Gale. “You and Rounen are coming back into me. We’re going to be riding flat-out, people. One day’s ride, two at the outside. It’s going to be uncomfortable and tiring, but we’ll have a rest day once we get to our staging point before setting off at a slower pace down our exit route. You have ten minutes to pack and be ready to leave.”

Her Gale shakes her head. “Do I have to? Urgh, fine. Though I think I’m better at looking after them than you are. I don’t get distracted. Unlike you.”

It’s an unusually hurtful comment from... uh, herself, and Keris winces as the others scurry off to grab their belongings. “I... look, we’re going to be the same person in a minute. We might decide to remake you once we slow down, but right now we need speed. Come here.”

And of course the Gale obeys, stepping in to lock lips with her. Keris inhales her, head spinning as she suddenly has to reconcile four-ish days of memories.

She sits down hard, struggling to cope with the influx. It’s more than any Gale before - even more than her silverworking one, and that her hadn’t left her forge. For a moment she’s honestly not sure which one she is, until she shifts and feels the armour pressing in on her.

Urgh. She needs to take this off, too. No point in subjecting Cissidy to the weight.

Ten minutes later, Keris’s armour is stowed back in her Domain in favour of furs, her twins are a lot happier now that mama isn’t covered in cold hard stuff that isn’t cuddly, and she’s swinging a leg over Cissidy with a gently snoring Kuha tucked in front of her and her twins sheltered between them out of the wind.

“Follow my lead!” she calls.

And they’re away.

They ride through the night, and once again Keris is silently thankful that Eko made these demons. They’re probably the most useful things she’s ever made, with... sigh, only the keruby to contest that position. 

The land falls and Keris below can see a mix of plateaus with wide grasslands, with occasional patches of jungle. There are herds she can hear below, cows lowing and goats bleating. There are very few long term settlements, and the ones they pass in no way compare to Malra’s wonders. 

Then, shortly before dawn, Keris can feel the hellgate. There’s an old ruin in the middle of scrabby grasslands. Maybe it was once some grand structure, but now it’s just a stubby base of an old tower.

But the thing is, the tower is made of basalt - and there are warnings in Firetongue scrawled all over its surface. The entrance way has been covered up with rocks, rolled to block entrance.

Keris rolls her eyes. “Right. I’ll take care of that in a minute. First, though...”

She turns to the girls. “At the dawn of time, when the gods and their Chosen fought the demon princes and locked them away, they forced them to swear oaths,” she says. “Part of those oaths were that the Exalted - the Chosen - could go to and from their prison as they wished, and get there from anywhere in Creation. We don’t have time to cross the entire South right now, so we’re taking a route through the demon realm. It will be scary. But remember: nothing there is allowed to hurt you, and I will kill anything that tries.”

((Per+Pres; 4+5+3 Mendaciloquent Maverick+2 stunt+9 Kimmy ExD=23, 18 successes. Using Beauty Over Truth with 11 successes to enhance - this is a justified decision that’s not at all a failing of Keris.))

Heba inhales. “O-oh,” she quavers. “But you said it’s safe? You and Calesco’ve done it before?”

“We have,” Keris confirms. “It’s not a path I like using with others, because exposing you to that place is not something I’d do if I had a choice. But you’ll be safe under my guard, and there’s a way-station we can catch our breath at halfway through while I work out our route to the Southwest.”

“O-okay.”

And that’s about that. Keris hefts the rocks out of the way, and heads down into the ruined underlayers of the tower - with Oula, who insists on coming so she can inspect the structure.

“This was grown,” Oula says confidently, running her hands over the basalt walls. Nothing is quite at a right angle, and there’s something about the tunnels that remind Keris of a vein. She thinks Oula is right. “And it’s hundreds of years old. The stone is telling me that. I think someone grew this like... like they grow things in the spires. It’s made of the same stone.”

Down in the ruined, soot-stained basement, there’s a crack in the world. It’s just wide enough that someone can squeeze through if they try. Silver sand coats the floor, and a cold wind blows in through the gap, through which a black sky can be seen.

“From this point on, we’re not in Creation,” Keris says. “It’ll be five days across the sands. Stay alert. There are hazards in the Desert, but not many of them are demons, and most are outrunnable. We keep the anyaglos close when we camp and keep watch in shifts, we will be fine.”

She pauses. “First, though,” she adds, “There are two messages I need to send.” She closes her eyes and wraps thoughts and words around an arrow-dream - hastily and clumsily, but well enough to get the point across. She needs something from Sasi if she’s going to do right by Kerisa - and she also needs to tell her what happened in Taira, and that she’s on her way back.

The dream won’t be long enough to include everything. But it’ll give Sasi the basics of what she needs to know, and deliver Keris’s request.

“Rounen?” she says, and her aide appears in a swirl of petals to her right. “I need you to take a message to Orange Blossom,” Keris continues without missing a beat, already starting to shape power into him. “Say this unto her: Orange Blossom. It’s Keris. I have information and materials from a recent venture into Malra that you will find very, very valuable, but we shouldn’t discuss it at a remove. Next time you can, stop by my townhouse and we’ll talk.” She gestures. “ ** _Go in my name and speak in my voice_**.”

“As you wish, ma’am,” Rounen says, bowing then vanishing again in a cloud of petals.

Keris pauses. She promised Calesco she’d wait until sunrise, and it’s not quite...

A dark mist seems to envelop her, sinking into her skin, and her eyes hurt from a brightness no one else can see.

“I’m back,” Calesco says from inside her head. “Don’t worry, I brought Velvet with me. She’s a good horse. And the rest is done. It hurt to share their memories, but it hurt them much, much more.” There’s a dark glee in her voice. “They won’t be doing that again.”

There’s a crash in Keris’ head as Eko bursts in through the door, and throws herself into a hug. Her baby sister is back and she’s super pretty and she’s white and black at the same time and oh did she like Velvet because Eko chose her super special and...

Eko’s non-words fade away in the distance as she drags Calesco off. It’s a bit of a puzzle how non-sounds can fade.

Keris leads her group through into the sunless desert. It’s cold here, but at least they’re dressed for it. Ice sparkles on distant mountains - or maybe it’s encrusted salt.

As the air pressure changes, Kali sneeze-hiccups, and there’s a pop as she turns into a bird and then starts giggling. Ogin is more scared, and burrows his head into Keris’ chest.

She looks around at the infinite expanse. Landmarks in the Desert are not really something the wise rely on, but Keris is a pro by now at navigating in this realm-between-realms. She chooses a direction and points.

“We head this way. It’ll be five days travel. Stay close, stay alert, stay near the anyaglos and remember: you’re safe with me.”

Rathan sighs, and stretches. “Hey, mama,” he says casually. “I don’t suppose you’d mind letting me have a play with that nice sword you got your hands on? I think it’s just my type.”

Behind him, Oula rolls her eyes fondly. Keris is entirely aware that Oula considers Rathan useless with bladed weapons, and considers it her duty to protect him.

Keris flips the blade in question thoughtfully. “If you must,” she allows. “But don’t go thinking you can pull a Haneyl and keep it. I can think of uses for that sword.”

“Oh, please, like I can- wow!” He takes it from Keris, and the tip immediately sags to the ground.

“My big bro’s got noodle arms,” Vali observes simply inside Keris’s head. There is the sound of one hand high-fiving, as Eko agrees with Vali.

“Be careful,” Keris advises, not without amusement. “It’s heavy.”

Oula nudges her way in, and carefully takes it from Rathan. “Oh, this is very nice,” she says admiringly, running her hands over the surface. “The craftsmanship is wonderful. And the silver is so beautiful. I’ll just carry this for you for a bit, Ratty. Just for a bit.”

“Well, anything for you,” Rathan says quickly.

Keris wastes no time in chivvying them on their way, and takes the time to reach inward to Calesco as they travel. She trails her daughter back to her tree, under the dark skies of the Meadows. Around her, the tar bubbles and past the tar lake the mezkeruby work on the beehives. Keris has followed her melody all the way here, but she can't see any sign of Calesco. Just crows up the tree, and a panther lying on one of the lower branches.

The panther opens its mouth and yawns, showing a pink tongue. “Hello, mother,” Calesco calls down from the treetop. She lets out a happy sigh, tail swishing lazily. “It’s nice to be home. And in my own skin.”

“... you’re a cat,” Keris says intelligently, blinking. “Why are you a cat? _How_ are you a cat?”

The cat shrugs expressively, muscles rippling under the satiny black fur. “It’s just another lie,” she says. “But I like it. I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Haneyl and Vali turn into dragons.”

Dropping out of the tree, she lands with silent grace and pads over to Keris. Her shoulders come up to Keris’s waist, and now that she’s closer Keris can see she’s wearing her sash as a collar. She rubs her head against her mother’s hip as she passes, and as she leaves Keris’s field of vision there’s a sound like tearing cloth and rustling fabric.

When Keris turns around, Calesco is back in her normal form.

“... well,” Keris says, not sure how to respond to this new revelation. “We’re away. Are you...” She pauses momentarily, considering. “Did you finish your business there?”

Calesco’s wings flutter. As she unfolds and refolds them, Keris realises they’re still edged in white. She smiles at her mother - though it’s a hard, bright smile. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, I did. I found the mine we passed. It was easy. They keep the slaves separate from the overseers and the free workers, so all I had to do was see where the guards were, and I let them _see_.”

Keris draws her into an embrace. “I... I wasn’t able to save mama, though,” she sighs. “I hoped she would pass on, but... she didn’t.”

“No. I suppose she wouldn’t,” Calesco says sadly. “Oh, mama.” She wraps her arms around Keris, and it is very clear that Calesco is still only eye-height to her mother, for all that she’s had a growth spurt. 

It’s nice when Calesco willingly touches her. She’s the softest of all of Keris’s daughters, and always warm.

Sniffing, Keris leans into her. “She killed everyone on the istandar’s estate,” she says miserably. “She was stronger - a Greater Dead - and she was going deeper into the Underworld. Swearing to ruin everything in Malra; to kill and kill and never stop. I- I couldn’t...”

“Tell me what happened, mama,” Calesco says, easing Keris down to the soft ground. “Or if you need to relax, we could go to one of the hot springs. I found out some of my keruby have used stone from the Old City to build a bathhouse. I’m proud of them, although I had to make clear to an annoying little sziromkerub that they wouldn’t be allowed to charge for entrance.”

((snrrk))

They retire to the new structure. It’s a dark, steamy place lit only by polished bits of moonstone that cast a dull red light. There are water-baths there as well as tar - Calesco explains that they keep the water in tanks and pipe it through the natural tar-pits to heat it up. That half of the bathhouse isn’t as full as the mezkeruby-crowded tar pools, but a few sziromkeruby, szulok and spider-sentries get asked to vacate one of the smaller rooms for the visiting royalty.

Keris is surprised out of her misery for a moment, though, when Calesco strips down and joins her in the water.

“Ah!” she yells, half-flinching in anticipation of pain, half bolting to get out of the water and help her daughter cover herself again. Calesco giggles as Keris flails, and watches her initial reaction fade to mere confusion.

“What... how are you doing this?” Keris whispers, reaching a hand out to brush across Calesco’s shoulder in wonder. She’s still in the dark-skinned shape she adopted when they first found Maryam, not her bird-like form - though there are hints of her true self in the fine feather-like birthmarks on her arms and the white frosting at the ends of her hair. “You’re not covered... but... your light?”

“I learned a lot from my time with Kuha,” Calesco says, amused and proud and... is that a hint of shyness? “One of the things I learned was how to hide my light in shadows. If someone brought a light in right now, it'd be very bad for... everyone. But as long as it’s dark, I can bathe with you - and be here for you when you need someone to comfort you.

Keris’s mood dips again as she’s reminded of why they’re here. Sniffing, she nods, and begins. Ensconced in their private pool, Keris shares the bare bones of what happened - Maryam’s ascendance to the ranks of the Greater Dead, the ship, the fight with her po and the way she’d cared nothing for it... and her fall into the River, to end there.

By the end, she’s crying again.

Calesco draws back slightly, arms crossed over her chest. “Now do you understand why I think you’re too soft on me and you should punish me more for things like this?” she asks with terrible kindness. “You’re just the same. You think you did something wrong and awful here, and you think you need to be punished for failing to convince her to pass on.”

Keris’s lip trembles. Her nod is tiny.

Calesco sighs, kicking her legs in the water. “Well, I suppose I really am your daughter,” she says darkly. “You passed those things down to me, after all.” She blushes. “Well, I suppose we can both punish ourselves by having an awful, painful conversation neither of us want to have,” she says reluctantly.

She takes a deep breath. “Mama. I love Kuha.”

((Poor Keris, reminded that Calesco logic sometimes resembles Eko logic.))   
((... did they just swap places, with Calesco not thinking Keris has really done something that deserves punishment there?))   
((basically!))   
((lol))   
((and Calesco is using the chance to have mutual self-punishment by having this conversation. :p ))

There’s no movement from the other side of the pool for a few moments. Then Keris dunks her head under the hot water.

When she re-emerges a few seconds later, the tears are washed away and the redness around her eyes is hidden by her flushed skin. She blinks a few times, finding her voice.

“... okay,” is her eventual comment. “I... I suppose Rathan and Oula are...” Both of them cringe. “Well. Anyway. I, um. I suppose this happened in your dreams?”

Calesco nods, about as red as her mother. “I... sharing someone’s body is very... very intimate. And, uh. She was dreaming of me and I was dreaming of her. And... she’s hardly any older than me, you know. I mean, how old I look. She thinks she’s about seventeen or eighteen summers old, though she isn’t sure. And she said I was pretty and... and... uh.” Calesco swallows. “I don’t think I like boys,” she says. “Not at all. I mean, Oula is pretty, but I didn’t see what you saw in Ney.”

Keris clears her throat, trying not to cringe. “Well... that’s fine, obviously,” she hazards. “Some people like girls, some people like boys, some people like both. Uh...” She’s trying to stay collected, but... it’s different to how Rathan and Oula was. Kuha really is like a daughter to her. And Calesco is her daughter too. Despite her attempts to be positive, Keris can’t help but feel uncomfortable with the relationship. “It, um... do, do you want more time with her? Not in Hell, but when we get back to the Southwest?”

Calesco looks hopeful. “Maybe,” she says, perking up. Keris has seldom seen her often gloomy daughter looking so happy. “Or if you need me to go somewhere for you, we can go off together!”

Bar that and a few other dreaming visits to her inner world; it’s hard going under the sunless, starless sky. The girls are trying to be brave, but they’re girls from the Tairan mountains. They’ve never seen a desert before - and they’ve never seen expanses like the salt plains they come across. They stretch out as far as the eye can see, a cracked expanse of salt and broken crystal bones of ancient, forgotten behemoths.

((Reaction + Survival to successfully navigate, Diff 4))   
((5+3+2 Coadj+2 stunt+5 MBD autosux=12. 8+5=13 sux.))

In response, Keris does her best to keep their spirits up with music and carefully-selected stories of the Southwest. It’s an exceptionally lucky transit for them - there’s a single mild sandstorm that Keris hears in the far distance, beyond the limits of sight, and no slavers or desert-caravans of demons at all. She quietly thanks the Desert under her breath - the relative peace of the journey makes it much easier than she’d feared it might have been. And as far as she can tell, when the green light of Ligier appears in the sky, she’s managed to find their way to one of the inner layers, too. Far less distance to go through the City to the Conventicle.

That’s the moment when the girls go very, very quiet. “The... the sun is actually green,” Heba whispers, stiffening up.

Keris settles her arms over their shoulders. “Remember,” she emphasises. “You’re safe under my banner. No harm will come to you from any being in this place. Stay between the anyaglos and do your best to ignore the noise.”

Privately, she considers herself lucky that none of the girls understand any Old Realm. It makes it much less likely that an overheard hail will tell them more than is safe for them to know. As long as she can get them quickly and quietly to her townhouse, she can settle them in an unused wing and order Mehuni to keep the staff away from them without too much trouble.

“Rathan, Oula, make sure nothing bothers them,” she adds. Her son and student are more than up to the task of keeping them safe.

“Right,” Rathan says. “Don’t worry, girls, you’re under my guard. Oh, and Oulie’s too.”

Oula rolls her eyes fondly, hefting her moonsilver grand daiklaive over her back. Keris has seen her practicing with it. She does tend to treat it like an overlong spear, but Keris hasn’t got much experience with a grand daiklaive either.

But then the girls shriek again as they head off across one of the Malfean plazas to the lightbridge Keris sees, as Kerisa unfolds from Keris’ backpack.

“Oh, what’s going on here?” she asks, looking around. “Why is the light strange? And the light isn’t burning me!”

“What’s that!” Heba shrieks. “There’s a girl coming out of your back!”

((No chasm of the material in Malfeas, lol, so Kerisa is now material. :p))   
((Bugger))

“Calm down, calm down,” Keris shouts. “Kerisa is a little spirit-ally of mine. We found her lingering in Taira and Calesco bade me help her.” She puts herself between the ghost and the girls before they can get too good a look at her. “Strange things sometimes happen here, but like I said; we’ll soon be at a waystation, and then you can bed down in a nice, secure, _normal_ room where you can relax and recover. And bathe. Kerisa, we’re here to help with what I promised you, remember? Stay close to me and hold onto your questions until we can settle down and have a proper talk.”

“Oh, I know all of them,” Kerisa says brightly. “Me and Rounen checked that none of them were my mummy. They’re good big girls. I wonder if they’re related to anyone I knew.” She looks at them. “I’m Kerisa! Keris is using my name, but I don’t mind because she’s nice and she’s helping me find my mummy!”

The girls don’t seem too convinced, and edge around to be closer to Rathan. Then they back off, when they realise that puts them too close to Oula, so instead they go over to Xasan and Kuha.

Fortunately Kerisa does listen to Keris, holding onto her hair with one bony little hand and taking two steps for every one of Keris’s

They manage to make it to the light bridge, and the guard gets in Keris’s face about a party with so many humans in it. And demands a larger fee for such a large group. Fortunately he’s doing it in Old Realm, so only Oula and Rathan understand what they’re saying. Oh. And Kuha, but she’s more used to Hell.

((Roll me Per + Pres, Diff 3.))   
((4+5+3 Prince of Hell+2 stunt+9 Malfeas ExD {arrogant, awe, authority}=23. Using Hidden Depths Temptress to persuade the guards to let them through for a minor fee and also _get out of Keris’s face right now_. Uh, whoops. 14x2=28 successes. Keris, uh, venting a bit of those 5 points of Limit she’s stacked up there by abusing a poor 1CD guard group who really, really did not deserve this. At least she didn’t flare, so she’s unlikely to be routed to Ligier again. She just, um. Psychologically destroyed them, ItRG!Penelope-style.))

Unfortunately for the guards, Keris is leading a fragile, high-strung, divided group, half of which she’s lying to in some form and all of whom are tired and stressed after the hardships of Taira and the trip across the Desert. Not only that, she’s jittery and on edge herself and has exactly _no time whatsoever_ for an uppity serf mouthing off to her; employment by Ligier or not.

The cutting, caustic tirade she unleashes on him in vicious Old Realm leaves him cowering and possibly crying beneath the helmet, and reduces the rest of the guard force to cowering at the edges of the gate and trying not to attract her attention.

At least Kuha seems impressed.

The lightbridge is very hastily routed to lead them to the Althing’s layer. It takes another half a day of travel, but the vast, city-covering dome of the Conventicle is in sight above them as they walk down the bridge and onto its layer.

There is an honour guard waiting for Keris. News apparently was sent ahead by the serf she humiliated, and there are soft-seated howdahs to carry them to the Conventicle itself.

The doors swing open, and they enter the gently lit expanse, full of soft green light, beautiful towering structures, and the many and varied estates of the green sun princes.

“Ooooh,” Kerisa coos. “This is some really fancy city! It’s like the pictures of Chiaroscuro in schoolbooks! Or Hollow!”

Keris unfortunately is a little preoccupied with stopping another Kali-and-Ogin escape attempt.

“Kali, no, get out from- Ogin!” Keris dives for her son as her shimmies up the one of the howdah poles and dives off head-first, grabbing him as he plummets from above-head-height. He smiles innocently up at her from her arms as her heart rate settles.

“Ogin! Diving off tall things is usually your _sister’s_ trick, don’t tell me _you’re_ going to start doing it now too?” she scolds, tapping him on the nose sternly. He beams and wriggles, wrapping a tail around her wrist. “Oh no you don’t,” Keris tells him, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t think you can get out of this by being cute at me, you-”

“Uh, Auntie?”

A horrible sinking feeling falls over Keris, and she turns. Oula is looking very, very worried from the pile of pillows Kali had burrowed into. “I, um, can’t find Kali, Auntie. The lump I thought was her was just another pillow.”

Keris slams her eyes shut, and hears the pitter-patter of six little tiger-cub feet scurrying away, _outside_ the howdah, across the Conventicle’s paved roads and pathways.

“Kali!” she screams. “Deal with the girls!” is all she has time to bark over her shoulder to Rathan as she throws herself out of the carriage and bolts after her gleefully-chirping daughter, who vanishes around a corner just as Keris catches sight of her. From the merry waving of her two little tails, she’s having a grand time. Ogin; clutched tight to Keris’s chest, looks very pleased with himself.

((... dammit, and Kerisa is going to follow _her_.))

There’s a little patter of feet behind her, and Keris realises that Kerisa has taken Keris’s instruction to “stay close to me” more literally than perhaps Keris meant. When it’s either let Kerisa run loose or carry her, it’s enough for Keris to twist and grab Kerisa with her hair, hefting her up onto her back, before setting chase after Kali again.

Her daughter has a truly impressive burst of speed, and also an incredible talent for finding spaces where a tiger cub can run through while a mother carrying a child and a baby cannot. She leaves her on a merry chase, cutting under buildings and through odd tears in space which seem to be new shortcuts and...

... oh. Keris emerges from another tear in space, into one of Lilunu’s gardens. Ogin stares around with wide eyes. But right in front of Keris is a tiger.

A much, much larger tiger. One the size of a house, maybe larger, with bright fur that reflects a rainbow and eyes that never quite stay the same colour. And Kali is running straight towards this monstrous beast, mewling happily.

Keris would be much more concerned if she didn’t feel the wash of heat and the utterly mixed sensory feelings that can only be one being.

((E10, mixed Yozi essence))

A last desperate lunge... still somehow falls short of her daughter, since Ogin chooses exactly that moment to jerk up from where she’s holding him to her chest and _cover her eyes and ears, the little brat_. The way her twins somehow cooperate without any apparent communication or prep-time is starting to get really annoying, as is the way they’re cooperating _against her_.

Regardless, it means that Kali is free to launch herself onto the nearest person-sized paw and nuzzle into the fur there, purring up a storm with the occasional high-pitched ‘hello’ mewl and the odd babbled syllable sprinkled in for good measure. Keris turns her lunge into as dignified a slide as possible and ends up on her knees, a respectful distance away.

Lilunu turns gracefully, looking down at Keris with her eyes that never stay the same colour. She could swallow Keris whole in this form, but her vast eyes focus on the tiny tiger cub who’s rubbing herself against her side, and chattering away.

“Hello, Keris,” Lilunu whispers in a voice that makes Keris’s teeth ache and Ogin cover his ears with his tails and start crying. “I had not had word that you were coming back so soon.”

Keris bows, petting Ogin gently and trying to calm him down. “I left on fairly short notice, my lady. But yes, my business in Taira is finished. And, uh. Apologies for my daughter. She escaped our howdah en-route to my townhouse and made a run for it.” She looks suspiciously at Kali, who to all appearances is besotted with the Unquestionable. “I’m... not sure if she was heading here deliberately, or if it was just a coincidence.”

Lilunu leans in closer, bringing her paw up to focus better on the little cub. She’s probably a hundred times longer than Keris’s daughter at the moment, yet Kali shows not a hint of fear as she looks up at a pair of shifting-hued eyes that are each bigger than her whole body. Keris sees the flash of pink as she opens her mouth in a happy greeting, tails lashing from side to side excitedly.

One colossal tear forms in Lilunu’s eye, rolling down her furred cheek. It splashes down onto the emerald grass, throwing off an explosion of rainbow-coloured light. “She’s beautiful, Keris,” Lilunu whispers in her ear-hurting volume. “So perfectly formed, so healthy, so beautiful.”

She lowers her paw to the ground, holding it flat before her, and lies down, opening her mouth wide. Out of her mouth steps her more normal form of a beautiful woman with Dynastic features, even as the giant tiger turns into a small hill and its bright fur becomes grass.

Kali seems momentarily confused at how the tiger paw before her has turned into a low mound, but then her golden eyes focus on the unclad Lilunu walking towards her, and with a pop and a flash of light Kali too turns from a tiger cub into a naked little girl, and starts laughing hysterically.

“I suppose it is very funny you can also be a tiger and a woman,” Lilunu says with a soft smile, as the baby awkwardly crawls towards her. No less awkwardly, Lilunu tries to pick her up, and Kali is sure to tell her “No!” when she’s doing it wrong. Eventually, though, she’s in Lilunu’s arms to her own contentment, and the demoness approaches Keris. “It’s good to see you again,” she says, hefting Kali. “Your daughter and your son are beautiful.”

“Lili mew-mew!” Kali explains eloquently. “Mama smell!”

“Keris, why does the lady have no clothes?” a piping voice contributes from behind. “And why was she a giant tiger? She was very loud!”

“And who is this little one?” Lilunu asks, trying to peer behind Keris to see Kerisa.

“Ah,” Keris says, awkwardly. “This is Kerisa. I... found her in Taira. She’s going to...” She half-turns, looking down at Kerisa and reaching down to hold her hand. “Well, I suppose she’s going to be my third child. It’s a little complicated - we have a plan to arrange for her to live again. Kerisa? This is Lady Lilunu. She’s very, very important, and my mentor, and I might be asking for her help in getting you to be reborn.”

She holds up Ogin, who seems a lot happier now that the ear-hurtingly loud noises have stopped, and is peering at Lilunu intently. “This is Ogin, and that’s Kali you have there. They’re very close with each other, even if they have a bad habit of teaming up to cause mischief.”

Kali produces a nonsense-babble of nearly-words and sounds to Ogin, who nods, and lifts up his chubby arms, holding them out to Lilunu. Looking overwhelmed, the Conventicle Malfeasant and Speaker for the Yozis takes the second small baby in her arms. 

“Hello, Ogin,” she says.

Ogin looks up at her, and reaches out to touch her nose, then smiles and rests his head on her shoulder. 

“Not as talkative as his sister?” Lilunu asks.

“Gin ba ba ra ali tal tal,” Kali explains.

“Um? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“No, Lili, tal tal ‘Gin!”

“Why is no one answering me?” Kerisa demands from Keris’s back. “I had questions!”

Keris pinches the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, my lady... ah, perhaps you could visit once I’ve got them back to my townhouse and settled? I have a lot to tell you - and a fair amount to share, including some beautiful Malran designs. Kerisa... Lady Lilunu is very powerful, and she can be a giant tiger if she wants. And giant tigers can’t wear people-sized clothes, so she doesn’t have them when she goes back to being a lady. Okay? As for you, Kali-”

“Lili la la bi! ‘Gin, ‘Gin tal Lili!”

“... you’re still in trouble for running off when I get you home. As is your brother for helping you. Say goodbye to Lady Lilunu for now, okay?”

“Bye bye, Lili!” Kali says brightly. Ogin pats her on the cheek, and accepts being handed back to Keris.

Having freed up her hands again, Lilunu bends down and scoops up some of the earthy clay from the ground, forming it into a crude bowl - which hardens into stone as she focuses. With care, she scoops up some of the giant tiger-sized tear into the bowl. It’s still fizzling and casting off rainbows.

“Thank you, Keris,” she says, wiping her eyes on her arm. Keris notes that all her tattoos have changed since the last time she saw her, just as the internal structures of the All-Thing have changed themselves. “Thank you for taking them to see me. And I hope I can see more of them again, because I’m really so, so happy for you that you have these beautiful, healthy children - who are so very adorable.”

Kali purrs happily at that. Normal tigers can’t purr, but Kali can.

Lilunu passes the bowl of fizzing tear to her. “A gift, in thanks for lightening up my day,” she says. “I’m sure you can find some use for it.”

Keris bows. “I will, my lady,” she promises, accepting it. “And I’ll be sure to summon Zanara while I’m here so you can spend time with them, as well.”

Zana crows happily in Keris’s head.

“I would be delighted,” Lilunu says. She gives a sad smile. “In a sense, Zanara has sisters now. I can see you have already embraced some of the new gifts of the Ancient and Firstborn, and of the Silver Forest.”

Keris nods. “I... would like to meet them, if they would wish such a thing?” she offers, hesitantly.

“It depends how long you are to be here.” Lilunu frowns. “Antifasi is harmless, but Hermione is... ill-tempered. Perhaps. Now, please, do not let me delay you in settling back in. But if you are free, please do come to dinner in a few screams and I can hear tales of what you did out in Creation. You, your children and any of your souls who wish to come are invited. It’ll be a private matter, do not fear.”

“I will be sure to,” Keris agrees. “Until then, my lady.”

With that said, Lilunu turns and steps back into the tunnel of the hillside that once again becomes a tiger.

“Lili!” Kali says brightly, as Keris walks off, watching the giant tiger over Keris’s shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Along the way home, it starts to rain in the Conventicle - a soft, gentle rain. Keris instinctively shields her children from the gods-don’t-know-what - but no. It’s only water. She tastes it and makes sure. Pure, natural water - that tastes of Creation, no less.

“Well, what do you think of that?” she asks of her children. Lilunu must have got her hands on some water hearthstones and decide to play around with weather.

Ogin doesn’t say a thing, as he’s too busy trying to catch raindrops in his mouth.

“Lili!” Kali says brightly, licking her mother’s cheek.

Then, in a whirl of petals, Rounen appears in front of her. He staggers, catches himself, and brushes off his shoulder irritably as if he was embarrassed to be slightly dizzy.

“Rounen!” Keris cheers happily. “Welcome back. Where was she? Do you need some rest after your trip?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect,” and he’s sounding a little tetchy, “you had me travel for five days across the Endless Desert - without any books, no less - to find her. Because she was in Hell. She’s in one of the outer layers. Now,” he adjusts his Tairan-cut robe Keris made him, “I’m sure you had your reasons. I was happy to do it, of course. I’m not at all annoyed. But please do consider this possibility in future.”

Keris blinks, surprised. She gets the idea that he might not be quite as happy as he pretends. “Ah. I didn’t... well, um, sorry? Let’s get back to the townhouse and you can have full run of the library while I deal with some things. And also organise the sorcery notes I got from the naib; there’s some new stuff in there that’ll be interesting for you.”

The bribe of having things to sort through - especially notes - seem to cheer him up. “Oh, that’s a thing, ma’am,” he says. “I was going to go to Orabilis’ library and see what I could gather, but this sounds more enjoyable.”

“Probably a good idea,” she agrees. “Orabilis will throw you into the sky if you put together certain things. Best not risk it.” Privately, she decides to be extra-nice to him for a few days as an apology. “Let’s go, then. I need to make sure the girls are settled somewhere that won’t scare them, and then I’ve got the Baisha to check on and a few other things to sort out.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take them, then head to the Near Swamp.” He brushes off his clothes again. “Come see me fairly soon. I’ll be working there in my estate, along with some promising sziromkeruby candidates who I think have the potential to exceed mere demonhood and attain the same transcendence I have. I’ll certainly be able to brief you on their full contents.”

Keris hands the notes over, pointing out a couple of areas she’s found interesting in her skim-reading so far, and lets him dissolve into petals again. Kali giggles excitedly, waving at the drifting plumes. “Rou ba ba!” she announces.

“Yes, love. Bye bye Rounen! Well done!” Keris tells her, nuzzling Ogin’s cheek and planting a kiss on his forehead. She gives Kali an extra cuddle as well. “Now, come on back to the townhouse, and no more escaping! You’ll see Lilunu again in a few screams, so be on your best behaviour until then.”

((Keris-mama is too soft. She’s forgotten to be angry at them. :p))  
((: P))  
((also, lol, Rounen is now an anime bishie villain talking about his transcendence))

Keris’s townhouse stands among its windswept gardens, and she sighs in relief. This is the first time the twins have seen her... her home? Is it her home? She’s not sure. She barely spends any time here, but it’s the only place she owns.

The shadowy figure of her chief servant is already opening the door. “Lady Keris,” he says with a sinuous bow. “Welcome home.”

“Mehuni,” she says in relief. “Meet Kali and Ogin; my youngest children. Have the staff keep an eye out for them; they’re surprisingly good at escaping. And this,” she nods backwards at her hair, “is Kerisa. She’ll be staying with us for a ritual we have planned, so full courtesies. How are my other guests? Did Rathan get the girls settled into an empty wing?”

Mehuni steeples his long, shadowy hands in front of him. “Ah, my lady, there may be some... issues with that. Unfortunately, there has been an infestation of the guest wing. We are still trying to clear it out. It has been most pernicious.”

Keris frowns. “An infestation? Of what?” She wracks her brains for what he could be talking about. “Did... something from the grounds get tracked in?” she hazards. Maybe if some of the more tenacious metallic bushes had somehow had seeds tracked in that had taken root somewhere...

The demon bows again. “Sadly, my lady, it would see that your little orphans found something they should not have somewhere in the Conventicle. It was infested with a Metagaoiyn plague-fungus that is quite virulent. We have shut off the guest wing and when it tries to escape, we burn it out. The human girl we have in isolation, as she is infected and we know you are fond of her so would be aggrieved if we put her to the torch, but the other two were lost and are no doubt quite dead.”

Keris blanches white. The Conventicle is usually _safe_ \- still part of Hell, yes, but relatively calm and clean despite it. Lilunu keeps it that way; it was one of the only reasons she’d been comfortable leaving the Nexan trio here in the first place.

A _Metagaoiyn virus-spore_... she’ll have to mention this to Lilunu at dinner, if only to find out where the _fuck_ it came from and give her warning of any more that might still be lurking.

“Take me to her,” she demands urgently. “Wait, no. Shit. The twins.” A moment of dithering and a short whistle summons a servant, who she hands off the twins and Kerisa to.

“Take them to Rathan and Oula,” she orders. “Inform him of what’s going on. I’m going to look over Piu and then see about dealing with this infestation. We can rebuild the guest quarters from scratch if we have to, yes? Never mind, of course we can. Good. We may need to, if it’s established that much of a foothold. Piu first, though.”

Piu is in an isolated building in the gardens, away from the main body of the house. Part of the reason for that is that... well, she’s taken root. Half her body is sunk into the ground, budding out as dull grey spongy substance, and her features are twisted by it. There’s a beautiful nurse-demon covered in fine stitches here, seeing to her - but even the demon is wearing gauze soaked in something vile-smelling over her mouth and thick, plated gloves.

“Lady Kerisss,” Piu slurs, looking up at her with her one remaining eye.

“Oh, Piu, sweetheart...”

Keris fights back tears. Guilt swirls up, vicious and sickening, compounding on what was already there. This is _her_ fault. _She_ left Piu and her brothers here. And now Shan and Yelm are dead - or worse - and Piu is likely only clinging on because of the ocean-blood Keris granted her _and not them_.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I’ll fix this, I promise. I’ll save you.”

“It’s not fair,” she slurs. “Yelm just wanted the fruit from that garden.” She lets out a sick bubbling chuckle. “He got his arm broke when he stole plums back home. An’ those plums gave us the runs. This is worse.”

Keris can’t help but smile at the Nexan sense of humour; that fatalistic smirk at misfortune of others or your own.

“We’ll talk about that when you’re better,” she promises. “I... I’m sorry, Piu. The boys...”

“People die,” Piu says softly. “I’d be dead if I weren’t for you, an’... an’ at least they got the best time we ever had until it happened. We ain’t got beaten or kicked or hurt ever since you showed up.”

Keris...

Keris doesn’t have an answer for that, because she’s busy trying to choke back tears again. She’d almost prefer it if Piu blamed her; screamed and raged and threw hateful words. This... this _acceptance_ that people you love just die and that there’s nothing you can do about it... she remembers that feeling. Remembers that mindset.

They aren’t happy memories.

“Well,” she gulps, after getting herself under control, and kneels down beside the girl. “Let’s have a look at you, then.” She’s not _too_ worried about being infected herself. Keris’s own metabolism is even stronger than Piu’s, and this is a Metagaoiyn plague - she’d be shocked if it could twist her flesh. At most, it might turn her into a carrier, but if that happens she can just see if flaring her anima burns it off, or dose herself up with enough alchemical concoctions to kill anything without Exalted resilience and purge it that way.

((I’m aware Keris is, amusingly, wrong about how resistant to magical Disease she is there. But she’s probably right that she can burn it off if she does get infected, or just FWT it to death before it gets a foothold.))  
((Standard diagnosis aided by FWT to enhance applicability by letting her feel around inside Piu.))  
((Reaction + Occult, Diff 3))  
((5+5+2 Coadj+2 stunt=14, enhancing with FWT.  
...  
... wtf.  
Um. _1_ sux. Yeah. You read that right. 1 success. On 14 dice. What the unholy fuckbitch.))  
((And this is a sign you’ve got too confident. :p))

Keris slips her root-tendrils into Piu’s fungoid flesh, tracing out the edges of the change and trying to make sense of what she’s feeling. She’s careful not to actually taste anything, instead relying on her po’s sensitivity to touch... but perhaps that, or the distraction of the grief and guilt she’s still feeling, have her off her game. She can’t tell what’s going on in the chaotic mess that’s become of Piu’s physiology. She can’t even make sense of how the girl is still alive, even _with_ the empowered brine-blood that’s fighting against the fungus in her veins and organs.

Keris sighs. She doesn’t get what’s going on. She could wait a bit, clear her head, and try again later. 

But that would mean leaving Piu here like this. And maybe if she tried nibbling on some of the fungal mass, she’d get what was going on better.

((Keris has a choice - go off and roll again another day when she’s rested and cleared her head, or try a more intimate examination. Going off means going against Compassion. More detailed examination means exposing to body fluids and the like.))  
((Hmm. It’s, what, an Endurance+Survival roll to avoid infection when exposed, right?))  
((Yes, against its Virulence. Which you have no idea of, because you are a failure.))  
((:c))

Leaning back, Keris drags a hand down her face and curses quietly. Pacing over to the fire-guarded doorway, she breathes out, forming a Gale on the other side of the quarantine curtain; clean and untouched by any spores that might be lurking within this room.

“Stay on top of things,” she orders. “Put off the meeting with Lilunu until I’m done; and just... keep things running until I’m done with this.”

Her Gale nods. “Wring that fungus out and burn it to fucking ash,” she says back. “Get Piu out of there and back to full health.”

With a tired salute, Keris turns back to Piu and plunges the roots in once more, distantly hearing the Gale telling Mehuni to have her full alchemy kit delivered up to the quarantine. Right, yeah, she’ll need better tools than her travel kit to put together something that can burn this out of Piu’s body. Opening dozens of tiny mouths, she samples the fungus-flesh for a better idea of what she’s looking at, nibbling a little here and a little there while avoiding anything important.

((No reroll penalty since you're using a different method, but you also need to roll me Endurance + Survival against Diff 4.))  
((Yay. Diagnosis... _8_ sux; much better.))  
((Resistance roll: 3+3+2 stunt+3 Malfeas ExSux {resilient, strong, blight}=8. Hah, 6+3=9 sux. Keris fucking murders the stuff in her bloodstream and gullet.))

On her own part, she focuses Valiant toughness and recalcitrance in her flesh; Haneylian hunger that devours anything lesser than itself, Zanara’s casual adaptable mutability and Eko’s flensing touch and Dulmea’s deadly poisons. If the fungus wants to make the jump to _her_ body; it’ll have the fight of its life on its hands.

It squirms on her tongue. It tries to bite into her, crawl into her, fill her body with its spores and probably crawl around her spine.

But, no, the thing is now she’s seen it try to infect her, Keris knows what it is.

It’s Haneyl.

Or, rather, it’s something more infectious than Haneyl, more dangerous than her, something spread by body fluids and without her fire.

But it’s the same basic thing.

“Blue Silence, I wish Haneyl were here,” she curses softly. “She’d be really useful for this. Okay.” She raises her voice. “Piu, I know what you’ve got, and we’re going to starve and poison it to death, okay? Normally the way it’s made you take root would leave your body a bit messed up even after it died, but,” she winks reassuringly, “with me here, you’ll be as pretty as you ever were, no problem. It’s not going to feel good, though. Can you be brave for me?”

In her head, she’s already putting together the alchemical draughts she’ll need. They’re not cheap, and they’re not going to be pleasant either. “Not feeling good” is an understatement. In fact... Keris considers how long the treatment would take to get, make and apply. Hours, at least - probably days of Piu being miserable. It might almost be faster and easier to...

She purses her lips. One of the things that had killed off the spores _really fast_ in her own body was her blood. Yeah, this infection had not liked the mercury inside her _at all_. If she could apply that to Piu somehow... then Piu would have mercury poisoning. But that would be solvable in its own right; she could leech the metals back out with her roots, and it wouldn’t put her in _immediate, crippling danger_ , either.

It would also draw less attention to her predicament from anyone watching what Keris was ordering, which is a minor point that Keris doesn’t really care about, but is still worth considering.

Right then. She can whip up some things to make Piu feel better with just her basic alchemy kit while she tries to work out how to dose the fungus with mercury in a way that will kill it off as efficiently as possible, without harming Piu too much.

For the moment, she focuses on making Piu more comfortable, mixing painkillers and soporifics as well as some lesser brews that will starve the fungus and give Piu’s brine-blood some much-needed help. After considerable though, Keris doesn’t think she can work out the mercury trick on her own, but she swears fervently to Piu to make it her priority over the next few days.

She also makes sure to burn everything in the guest wing to fine white ash; right down to the walls, floor and foundations after everything inside is thoroughly sterilised by green flame and anima-wind. There are two rooted... things in there that must have been Shan and Yelm, as well as several servants. There’s no life or sapience in any of them, though.

She checks.

Then she... does what she has to, for what’s left.

There’ll be another talk with Calesco about this. But that can come later. For now, she needs to talk to Rathan and Oula about mercury.

Rathan, for once, is on his own. Oula’s off looking at the architecture of the Conventicle, but Rathan is in the baths.

“Hi, Mama,” he says, floating in a bath. “This is wonderful. I had so much sand down the back of my neck. It was awful. It’s good to be back in a civilised place.”

“Not all civilised,” Keris says darkly. “You heard about Piu?”

“It’s not that different from home.” Rathan says. “I mean the same thing’d happen to someone who wandered into the Swamp. And prob’bly worse in the Edgelands.”

“... well, I’m fond of Piu,” says Keris, choosing not to address that tidbit. “I think I can treat her with mercury, but I need to work out how. Help me with the details?”

Rathan yawns. “Do I have to?” he whines. “I’ve only just got to sit down after all this time spent travelling.” He’s looking very piteous.

Calesco, of course, is fuming in her head about her brother’s laziness and self-centred nature. Whatever truce existed between them when they were both out seems to be in abeyance.

“ _Yes_ , Rathan,” Keris snaps. “Piu agreed to let me change her of her own free will when I promised her health. She followed me out of Nexus and across the Desert. She calls me ‘Lady’, and she’s my ward, and she’s got a _Metagaoiyn plague-fungus_ rooted in her. She’s one of _my people_. I have to save her. Help me.”

Rathan makes a disgruntled, whining noise. “Fiiiiiiiiine. But only when I’m out of the bath. I’m trying to get this wretched sand out of my hair. It’s awful. I have almost as much hair as you and I can’t eat the sand away like you or Hanny.”

Keris sighs, pacing impatiently until he demands she either leave and wait outside, or join him in the bath until he’s done. She leaves, and frets on her own until he emerges, jumping on him immediately and starting to explain her ideas.

((Rathan rolls - 5 successes, 2 over diff))

Despite his reluctance and his whining, Rathan produces some actually astute comments and - despite the fact he’s not being allowed to slob around, he doesn’t act like he minds it too much.

“I think you’re going to have to physically cut a lot of it away and regrow it,” he decides. “It’s just taken over too much. So you might as well as apologise and grow her a better body while you’re at it. You did the same for Kuha, after all. Or, I guess, you could try infecting that fungus with Haneyl? But that might just teach it to use fire.”

Keris sighs. “You might have a point,” she admits. “I’ll still need to kill it off first, but... yeah. That won’t revert the flesh-warping.” She rubs at her face tiredly. “More work. More planning to do. More _time_ before I can get her back to rights. Urgh.”

Keris hits the sack, and falls straight asleep. She has to admit, Rathan is right. She is feeling exhausted after all this time, and this is the first time she’s properly rested in... fuck, ten days? Eleven? She can’t even remember.

As a result, she sleeps dreamlessly for a long time, and only slowly surfaces into her inner world.

She wakes in the warm, buzzing, humid expanses of the Swamp. But it’s the near Swamp, where a good chunk of the City landed. And unlike other places, Haneyl’s keruby have been _active_ in salvaging it and trying to ensure that the place is kept in good order. Now there are old City buildings, patched up with stone imported from the Isles, and everywhere there are gardens. City-swamp hybrid kats roam the streets and green flames burn in copper streetlamps. Keris shivers. She can’t help but think of the plague infecting Piu and how much it is like Haneyl.

She paces along the roads - plants, of course; lanes of tough clover-like grassy stuff that form a surface a little like very small, slightly giving cobblestones - until she finds Rounen’s estate. The centre of it is a library, of course. She’s not surprised. She’s greeted by a white-and-red sziromkerub, dressed in a little paper gown, who curtseys. “All-Queen,” she announces in a clear voice, “you are welcome here. Your beauty outshines the moon and lightens all our days. And... uh,” she looks at her sleeve, where she’s written the rest of the speech, “the palatial estate of Rounen, prime among the Flower Maiden’s servants, is open to you with all its delights and wonders.” She coughs. “He’s in the study,” she adds.

Keris smiles. Sziromkeruby - keruby in general, really - have a way of lifting her spirits when she’s feeling down. “Thank you,” she says. “Your name, little one?”

“Rala,” she says. “I used to be a wave cherub and I came over to help with shipping the stone around and then I learned to read and turned into this. That’s why I’m still red, I think!” She puffs her chest out. “It means it’s a rare and _precious_ colour.”

Keris grins at that. With her red petals, if she becomes like Rounen she’ll have hair as red as Keris’s.

“Thank you, Rala,” she says again, and follows the petal cherub’s directions to Rounen’s study, slipping in through the door and looking around with interest.

Rounen’s room is still clearly being set up, and it’s rather sparse. His estate used to be part of the city, and he’s just moved in recently. “Ah, ma’am,” he says. He gestures over to the sideboard. “Would you care for some honeywine? The tar cherubs have invented it recently and I’ve made sure to obtain some.”

Glass in hand, he offers another to Keris, then sits back and sips it. “It is, unfortunately, not perfect,” he admits. “They haven’t worked out how to ferment things yet, so it’s basically just sugar and honey and syrup. But the szelkeruby pay large amounts for it, so I had to get some for the status and so I can treat them. Now, are you feeling better, ma’am?”

“... no, not really,” Keris sighs, slumping into a chair and sipping at the- wow, yes, that really _is_ sweet. “One of the boys I brought back from Nexus - Yelm - took some fruit or something from a garden somewhere in the Conventicle and brought it back to share with his brother and sister.” She sniffs, remembering the once-human forms that had been in the guest wing. “It was full of Metagaoiyn plague-fungus spores. Imagine something from the Outer Swamp, but more infectious and without the fire. Both boys are dead; Piu is... clinging on. Barely. I had to burn the guest wing to the ground.”

“How awful, ma’am,” Rounen says sadly. “I think from what I’ve seen of Hell, that it’s a deeply unpleasant place that could do with some proper rules laid down. And generally for people to stop being so awful.” He sniffs. “But then again, they are _demons_.”

Keris nods. “I’m not leaving anyone else here unattended in future, that’s for sure,” she says. “Still asking Lilunu to... but, if that comes up, I’ll be beyond caring.” She shakes her head, forcing down the guilt with an effort of will. “What do you have for me? Sorcery and sziromkeruby both - Rala was very sweet and helpful in welcoming me, by the way.”

“She’s quite a good student,” he agrees. “Now, if you follow me, ma’am,” he says, sweeping through to the next room, looking down over a pit, “this is my little attempt to try to rebuild the Lost Library. As I see it, someone has to try to archive and collect every book written in this place. And as a result,” the two of the lean over the balcony, and see the tens of sziomkeruby working in this place, “I’ve acquired quite a staff. Well, honestly, I just told them about that plan and they came to work for me. But...”

He leads Keris into a side room.

“The more skilled ones are in here.” There’s a number of sziromkeruby here, mostly older ones, and they’re sitting at desks behind mounds of paper. “I have them making sure we have seven copies of everything you obtained, and my long term plan is to make sure all your personal papers are stored in each of the Directions and a copy for the City, so no disaster can ever wipe them out again. Lord Firisutu,” and that’s a definite sour note in his voice; it looks like her newest soul’s dislike for the keruby is both universal and reciprocated, “is aiding me in this venture.” He clears his throat. “Let me just check with Bashmir, and I will see how the progress goes on the transcription of your notes.”

((... omg, the Lost Library is basically Krisity’s version of the Library of Alexandria, isn’t it?))  
((It’s already got mythological status about how wonderful it was, especially since the keruby mostly weren’t let in because it was in the City. :D))  
((Hahahahaha! That’s amazing~))

“This... this is incredible, Rounen. Brilliant initiative. You’re to be commended,” Keris says, a slow grin spreading across her face. Backups of her papers sound like a _fantastic_ idea, now that she thinks about it. And with Rounen in charge of a system of libraries like this, she can be sure of having quick and convenient access to them, likely with helpful notes and cross-references added.

Rounen smiles, blushing slightly. “Why, thank you, ma’am, and might I say-”

But what he was about to say is lost entirely, as what can only be one of Vali’s volcanoes erupts so loudly as to knock books from the shelves and flatten Keris. Her head is reeling as she pulls herself to her feet. Rounen is snarling and showing slit eyes and two sets of teeth, but Keris can’t hear what he’s saying. He’s probably cursing, though. Most of the sziromkeruby in the room have been knocked out of their chairs and the papers have been scattered.

“Wha... wha’th’fuck?” Keris slurs, dazed, and pushes herself back upright with her hair rather than bother with feet and hands and balance. “Th’ _hell_ was that? We’re on the other side of the Empire to the Spires!” Shaking her head to try and get the ringing to stop, she looks around for an exit. An eruption that powerful will be visible no matter where it went off. “Rounen! Window! Where?” He points, and Keris finds her way - stumbling as her inner ear screams at her - to the outside.

There is a hole in the sky. Green light shines through. It’s already healing, but... she swallows. Oh no.

When Keris wakes, there are four people in the bed with her. Some time in the night, Ogin and Kali crawled out of their cot and came to lie on her. That’s normal. Kali is using her chest as a pillow and is lying on her, while Ogin is latched onto her legs.

Except now she’s also acquired two more children. Vali is sleeping on her right arm, which is feeling rather crushed under his weight. He’s also getting dirt in her bed. Meanwhile, Nara is curled up against her side, his delicate gold-and-red skin a contrast to her own. And as she looks up, she sees a painting of Zana propped up at the end of her bed, smirking at her with mismatched eyes.

((Hahaha, VALI))  
((LITERALLY BLEW A HOLE IN THE SKY))

“Was this your idea?” she murmurs, craning her neck to look at it without sitting up and dislodging everyone. “Or his? How did you even get out with him, anyway? Clung on when he went dragon?”

There’s a sound like rustling paper, and when she looks the Nara with his arm around her is now a stone statue. That’s... really inconsiderate, or at least would be if she wasn’t really good at squeezing out of things.

Zana pulls herself out of the frame, which fades away. She leaps up onto the end of the bed. “Hi Keris,” she says. “And no. See see see, Eko found a way out in the edgelands, but that involves getting past the snake. It doesn’t want to let anyone out, especially not us. Which is pretty mean of you, by the way. Why don’t you want us, Vali or Eko out?”

She pauses. “But anyway, yeah, Eko tried to get out through the snake way, but it was watching the way out too hard. And then she gave a... a really head-hurting explanation about Hell and... some kind of loom except it spins reality not cloth, or something? But anyway it’s much easier to get out and that’s why there’s a hellgate in the Edgelands. But then Vali was like ‘I don’t need a gate, I can just break out through the sky’ so I buried him and then followed him out through the hole when he smashed out as a dragon.” She pulls out a folded up canvas, and shows a charcoal drawing of a dragon flying out of an exploding volcano while lightning strikes all around. “I drew a picture of it! Look at it, Keris, look at it!”

Keris looks. It’s... actually really good. It captures the power and unrestrained force of Vali’s dragon-form really well, a fierce baring of teeth that’s probably a smile on his goat-like head and lightning crackling around his horns.

“Very nice,” Keris praises. “How did you get your other self out with you? Carried him as a... statue?”

“Nah, he-we flew out carrying me-us,” Zana shrugs. “It wasn’t easy for he-us, but I-we can’t grow wings.”

“And I suppose you’ll both be coming to dinner with Lilunu?” Keris asks, amused. “Well, I’m guessing that was your reason. Vali just wanted out?”

Zana squirms closer to hug Keris’s legs. “Vali does stuff for all kinds of weird reasons,” she says. “He doesn’t particularly care about prettiness. It’s strange. But I think, um.” She clears her throat. “Uh, he heard that all her souls are dragons.”

“... yes,” Keris agrees after a second of thought. “Yeah, that would do it. He’s... probably going to pester her about that. Hopefully not so much that he annoys her.” She shifts a hair tendril out to curl around Zana. “You, of course, she adores. It’ll be a few screams before we can visit, though. I need to help Piu.”

“Mmm. Well, if you’re going to be busy, you need to introduce us to the rest of the family!” Zana says firmly. “I-we didn’t break out just to be ignored.” Her orange-and-blue mismatched eyes gleam. “Oh, and we need tours around the Conventicle, Keris! It’s just the prettiest place ever! And Lilunu was _so nice_ last time we were here! It’s so so pretty!”

“We can definitely arrange for that - but keep your voice down,” Keris tells her. “They’re still asleep, so introducing _them_ to _you_ will have to wait... but this is Kali, and this is Ogin.” She shifts each of them very slightly as she names them, and Ogin sleepily shifts; his tails coiling out to wrap around Zana’s wrist as well as Keris’s legs. “Who... seems to have already trapped you. Fair warning, it’s surprisingly hard to get him to let go when he does that.”

“They’re like us,” Zana says, nodding. “There’s two of them but they’re also sort of one and there’s a boy and a girl and they’re also pretty.”

“Two but also one?” Keris questions. “How’s that?”

“Because they were born at the same time, just like us!”

“Ah, twins like you are.” Keris nods. “And they are very pretty, you’re right.”

Eventually, everyone in the bed wakes up - even Nara, as Zana etches herself into the wall in the corner of the room as a carving. 

“Hey, mum,” Vali says, with a yawn. He rubs his eyes, and pats a wide-eyed Kali on the head. “Hey Kali, hey Ogin. I’m your big bro Vali.”

Ogin tilts his head. Unfortunately he tilts it a little too far, and falls on his side.

Kali shakes her head sadly. “Gin!” she chides him. She turns to face Vali, and holds her arms out stubbornly. “Up!” It’s her picking-up gesture, and Vali at least understands it. When in his arms, she starts batting at his dreadlocks with her fingers, then takes his finger and starts gumming at it.

“I think there’s some teeth coming through,” Vali observes. “She’s a pretty good little sister, though. I’m giving her a B rank. Better than Zana.”

“She-we’re a pretty bad sister,” agrees Nara. “She-we always wants to be the one active.”

“Well, she does take after Haneyl,” Keris points out. “Vali, welcome out.” She hugs him. “A bit of warning that you were going to rip the sky open would have been nice, but well done anyway. You wanted to meet Lilunu too?”

“Yeah,” Vali says. “She’s your friend. Plus, she’s nice. And Hanny’d shout at me if I wasn’t there so at least one of us were.”

That makes Keris chuckle. “I need to tend to Piu before we can meet her - I’m hitting some blocks in working out how to treat her that I need to get over. But after that, we can all go have a meal with her, and Zanara can talk art with her and you can tell her how good dragons are.”

Vali shakes his head. “Why would I need to do that?” he says, sounding baffled. “She already knows. Dragons mean power, mum. And she’s really powerful so she has to hold all her power in her souls which are all dragons. Or she’d explode. And that’d be sad. They’re like vents in a magma chamber for her, and the power’s constantly escaping her.”

“... we might have to talk about that, later,” Keris tells him after a moment’s thought. “I thought pretty much the same thing, from what I know of her. I think it’s part of why she’s so unwell all the time - there’s too much pressure in her, and most of it’s working against itself.” She shakes her head. “But yeah, I meant you can _agree with her_ about how good dragons are. I know she doesn’t need telling.”

Vali shrugs. “I don’t mind saying what you want me to say. I don’t know her, even if I think she’s pretty cool. But I don’t want you to be sad because I said something that made her sad.”

((... lol, Temperance botch))

Keris can’t quite hide her surprise. In fact, there’s a brief moment where she gapes. Vali willingly reining himself in is not usual at all, in her experience.

... but then again... he does get along with Calesco by doing exactly that. He keeps the promises he _makes_ , always. It’s just barely short of impossible to get him to make them in the first place if he doesn’t choose to. And Lilunu... well, Vali has always been very protective of Keris herself, and he has a soft spot for the weak or sick who are struggling to overcome their frailty, and he loves anything related to dragons.

Okay, Keris concedes. Maybe it’s not too surprising that he’s willing to behave for Lilunu’s sake.

“Well then, why don’t I tell you about her,” she recovers as smoothly as possible, “and a bit about the one of her souls I’ve met before, so you know what she likes and doesn’t like...”

Keris briefs them all - well, okay, she briefs Vali and Zanara, and Kali helps.

“Lili kitty!” the little tigress tells everyone informatively.

Then it’s time to get everyone dressed and introduce them to the family and Keris’s associates. The Tairan girls have been sequestered by Rathan in an almost entirely demon-free section of her household to make them feel better, and Keris elects not to drag them into a meeting with her children just yet. But she does beeline for Xasan with Vali. Her son has liked her uncle since she first met the man, and she’s eager to introduce them face to face.

“Uncle,” she greets him, “this is my second son; Vali. He’s the one who I said liked you, back with Ali in Baisha. Vali, you already know Xasan from watching through my eyes.”

“Yeah. He’s family,” Vali says solidly.

Xasan shakes his head. “I saw your sketches,” he tells Keris, “and he really does look a lot like Ali did. Not quite the same - he has Realm eyes and he’s bulkier and darker skinned, but they’re so much alike. Greetings, young man.”

“I’m just going to call you uncle,” Vali decides. “It’s way too much effort to work out what to call my mother’s mother’s cousin via her mother’s twin. Hey, mum, is there a family thing for twins? ‘Cause you got Kali and Ogin and Zana and Nara and... you totally like -Ali names, right? ‘Cause you got Cally and Ali and Vali and also Kali...”

Keris’s lips twitch. “The twins thing, maybe,” she grants. “And -ali names are good names, though Calesco’s isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah, Cally is,” Vali says stubbornly.

That earns him an eyeroll and a grin. “And this...” she turns, pointing to... a painting. Dammit, Zana. “Okay, fine, _that_ , over there talking to Rathan, is one of Zanara’s bodies, since they apparently decided to have their girl body be a painting without warning me.” She shrugs. “They can only have one body doing things at a time, so the other turns into art whenever they switch. You get used to it.”

That weirds Xasan out a bit more, Keris can see that. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually. I wanted to speak earlier, but those girls were around and then you vanished off all of yesterday. Or, uh. There aren’t days here, but it feels like yesterday. I’m just going to say it out.” He sighs. “I didn’t realise you were a noble,” he said. “What are you, a shahbanu of some realm of Hell?”

Crap. Keris quickly tries to remember what she has and hasn’t told her uncle, and... gods _damn_ , this web of half-truths and lies and technicalities is getting complicated.

“Uh... sort of?” she admits. “I pretty much inherited a position when Dulmea came to me - inherited this estate, too; but nothing outside it. The art-loving demon I told you about; one of the powerful ones I work for by learning things in Creation and bringing beautiful things back for her - this is her city. I basically just have this estate, and a manse elsewhere that I picked up from one of my other patrons. That one is set up for making things; I needed it for the big alchemy project that stopped Kuha’s kin from having to poison themselves with their drug regimes.” She shrugs. “So, not a shabanu by any measure. More like Malek Qaja, if anything.”

“That’s not true, mama,” Rathan points out, drifting over with Nara in tow. “You have the _Baisha_ as well.”

Keris wrinkles her nose and wobbles her hand. “That doesn’t count. It’s got nothing to do with my status here - oh, uh, sorry uncle. I found a wrecked ship from the High First Age last year, brought back here and got it refitted into a warship. I still hadn’t remembered enough about Taira to track down where I came from at that point, so I called it the _Memory of Baisha_ , since... well, at the time I thought it was going to be my new home. I wound up settling in Saata instead, but it’s still pretty much my flagship and main powerbase in the southwest.”

Xasan nods. “I see, I see.” Then he gets distracted by Vali asking more questions about what it was like to be a mercenary and a soldier and fighting all over the place.

Keris listens at first, but she’s heard some of these things before and before that her attention is drifting.

“So,” Dulmea says in her head. “Keris. Child. How are you feeling now? Is being in Hell easing things for you?”

“It would be, if not for this mess with Piu,” she murmurs; shoulders slumping. “I don’t... I dunno, Rathan and I have been working on the mercury, and she’s more _comfortable_ now, but progress is going slowly and I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

“And,” and there Dulmea pauses. “What of... your birth mother, child? Do you want to talk about her? I notice you’ve still said nothing of her to your uncle.”

“I...” Keris’s throat locks down. “I... I can’t. I just... I can’t. Not yet. Please, ma- Dulmea? Not... not now. I will, soon, I promise. Just... not yet.”

“Are you sure of that, child?” Dulmea asks. “Well, perhaps. But what if it never is time?” She tuts. “I know how you run from your troubles.”

And that, Keris has no answer to. All she can do is huddle further in on herself, until Vali notices her shrinking body language and charges over to rescue her from feeling bad. Nara is also there, with big - albeit feline - eyes. “And mama,” he says softly, once Vali is finished with his pep talk. “Remember, we’re going to all need the prettiest clothing for Liliunu.” He glances at Vali. “Don’t give it to Vali until just before the dinner. He’ll just ruin it.”

“Eh, that’s fair, mum,” Vali shrugs. He ruffles Nara’s hair and cat ears. “Clothes aren’t tough enough for me.”

“You just don’t care about prettiness!”

“Right...” Keris squeezes her eyes shut. “That’ll push it back a bit further, since I’ll have to help Piu and then make the clothes and...” Dammit, she’d been looking forward to that dinner. And now it’s looking further and further away, and her efforts to find a way to heal Piu just aren’t _working_ ; she’s spent hours on the alchemy but she’s starting to suspect she’ll need to develop a whole new gift from the Silver Forest to do it right, and that’ll take _days_...

Nara looks appalled. “Mama, she’s not going to _die_ and you made sure she’s not in pain.” He latches onto her hand. “You’re going to be making mistakes if you don’t relax. You’ve been working so, so hard recently.” He nods. “And it’s not just that. If you have a nice dinner with Lilunu, she might be able to help you looking for the cure. Think of those two poor boys who died. They got the plague from somewhere. Doesn’t Lilunu need to know that, given it ruined a whole wing of your house? Someone is growing really nasty plague things! That’s so ugly!”

((Zanara gets 10 successes on Keris-wrangling))

It takes a little more badgering, but Keris eventually agrees. She _does_ want to see Lilunu - a lot - and Zanara makes good points, Piu is, if not safe, then at least stable and as comfortable as she can be. Plus, informing Lilunu about the plague-fungus is definitely important.

She can’t say she isn’t looking forwards to it and feeling better about it, she decides - and this little family thing has helped her cheer up.

((OK, so Keris has about a day or so to get everyone ready and dressed and so on for the dinner with Lilunu.))

Aware that she’ll be having a proper dinner with her mentor during which she wants to ask for at least two large favours - even if she does have several things to offer in return - Keris pulls out all the stops in preparing. Rathan still has her Amulet, and Zanara can... more or less be trusted to make their own clothing with Keris’s supervision, but Kali, Ogin, Oula, Vali and herself all need new clothes.

She gets to work. Happily, she’s not working entirely from scratch here as she did with Ney’s masterpiece. She can adapt clothes they already have, and merely update them to match in style and cut and presentation; Zanara putting their own spin on the unifying theme and Rathan shifting the Amulet to match. With Ney’s dress still lingering in her memory, she aims for more of the same blend of Harbourite and Saatan styles as she did for him; giving Kali and Ogin adorable little ruffled dresses that will hide the latter’s legs; herself and Oula the thick folded skirts with leg slits, and Vali a kilt-like skirt that leaves his lower legs bare and a patterned folded wrap for his upper body that he can adjust as he wants without having his arms restricted. All of them she covers in her kymaaeran embroidery, as well as sprinklings of Hellish gems.

((Keris is working at max speed - 20x boost.))  
((Cog + Occult, Diff 4 for the lot))  
((“Lab” setting, so 4+5+3 Jupiter’s Embroidery+2 stunt+9 Kimmy ExD {great artist, beauty}=23. 11 sux.))

Keris sits back and admires her finished work. Yes, she’s done a wonderful job of this. This is clothing fit for princes. Which, she supposes, her children are. They’re her children, and therefore they’re the children of a green sun princess.

Then comes the necessity to wash everyone. By which she mostly means Vali, Kali and Ogin. They all have a talent for getting messy.

“This is mindless self-indulgence,” Calesco grumps. “There are better uses for your time. I’m going to see if Eko has stopped hiding from me. She’s probably planning a prank, but at least I don’t need to watch you wasting all this time and money on clothes.”

Keris doesn’t respond. There’s a pang of guilt at her daughter’s words - a part of her agreeing that she should be focusing more on Piu. But Zanara was right. She needs to take some time to meet with Lilunu and do something she enjoys, or she’ll burn herself out.

She can talk to Calesco about penance later. For now, she has a mentor to meet. With the twins and Vali clean and clothed - and on surprisingly good behaviour once she tells the younger pair that they’ll be seeing “Lili” soon, bar the eager and incessant babble of Kali’s excitement - Keris leads her little group of six children to the heart of the Conventicle, where the Speaker for the Yozis resides in an art-cathedral of almost incomparable beauty and splendour.

Lilunu’s servants quickly convey them up one of the spires, into a towering crystalline room where the floor builds itself steps away from where they’re walking, and falls away behind them. Rainbow shimmers dance over every surface, and angyalka and other music demons play sweet songs from niches in the walls.

A vast door builds itself from the walls, then deconstructs itself to open into a lavish balcony that overlooks the Conventicle. Lilunu is seated there at a grand throne at the head of a long table. She’s wearing robes of woven butterfly wings - no, she’s wearing countless butterflies who perch upon the emerald-green shift she wears underneath.

“Keris!” Lilunu says, rising. Her ever-changing eyes look over Keris and her guests. “And Rathan, of course, and Zanara, and those darling twins, of course.”

“Lili!” Kali says, waving with both hands and managing to hit Keris in the face.

“Yes, indeed...” she looks over the rest, including the painting Zana has under her arm, “and Keris, dear, you must introduce me to the rest!”

“Of course,” Keris smiles. “Kali and Ogin you know, Rathan and Zanara you’ve met before. This is Vali; my Ninth soul, who has been quite vocal in wanting to get out and meet you, and this is Oula; my student and Rathan’s paramour. And...”

She smiles, gesturing at Zanara to set her painting up. It’s so abstract as to be almost eye-hurting, with subtle aspects here and there that turn the stomach a little.

“You may remember that Zanara has two forms?” Keris continues. “Well, while they can usually only hold one at a time, they very much wanted to meet you in both. So...”

And with a quiet hiss of effort from Zana, the painting twists and unfolds... but Zana doesn’t petrify into a gargoyle or a painting or a leering carving on the floor. Zanara’s twin aspects stand beside one another; a rare occurrence that even Keris has scarcely ever seen, with identical frowns of concentration on their faces.

“Hello, aunt Lilunu,” says Nara, at the same time as Zana says, “Hello, mother.”

Rathan grins. “Lady Lilunu, I do apologise in advance for any mishaps that Zanara has when they accidentally stab themselves in the eye with a fork or something.”

Both Zana and Nara shoot Rathan a filthy glare that promises future retribution. “We will do no such thing,” they say in harmony.

Lilunu isn’t listening, though, as she sags. “Mother?” she says weakly.

Keris blinks. “Ah... sort of?” She chivvies her group towards the table as she explains. “All of my souls have other parents; you know that. People I’ve loved, who were important to me. Rathan... Rathan’s father I parted ways with before Exalting, Vali is Sasi’s child, and so on. Zanara... has two bodies. One of them...” she motions at Nara, “is Rathan’s brother. The other, though,” a nod at Zana, “was born from my coadjutor - and, um, it seems the other influence she took was... well, you.”

“Which means I’m _actually_ Keris’s sister, not her daughter,” Zana says smugly. “Don’t you think?” Her last words and the head-tilt that accompanies them are echoed quietly by Nara a hair’s-breadth after her; as her concentration slips and the body they’re not focusing on starts to mimic the one they are.

Vali rolls his eyes. “She’s just doing it for attention,” he begins.

“No, she... she does look like me,” Lilunu says slowly. And it’s true, while Zana still has her split-coloured hair, it’s two nearly identical shades of red and with the clothes she’s chosen out, she does look almost like a little Realm princess. Apart from the paint-splatter eyes and the angyalka-like traces in her features and long fingers. “Child, why didn’t you say this before?”

Zana blushes perfectly, Nara also reddening slightly. “It’s... complicated, who I am,” she says. “Since the last time we met, my brother and I have diverged more. I didn’t understand all the ways I was not Keris’ daughter-”

“-while I was her son,” Nara concludes, the sentence a single unit without a beat missed as it passes from one body to the other.

Kali blows a raspberry. It seems to be directed at her reflection in the countless reflective surfaces that form one wall and the floor in this shiny overlook. Ogin looks out over the Conventicle gravely, silver eyes taking everything in, and stretches out a hand to grasp at it.

“Well, child,” Lilunu says, “You can have the seat beside me.” She directs a look at Keris. “Are there any more surprises you plan to spring on me?” she inquires, gesturing for everyone to take their seats at the long table before her.

“Well, I suppose I should get the big one out of the way before we eat?” Keris asks, settling herself down on Lilunu’s other side. “I, um. I have a favour to ask, my lady. I think it’s one you’ll like, or... or at least agree to. Coming back from Creation, after... after finding my mother was dead; it made me think about things. My work for the Reclamation isn’t always safe, and should the worst happen...”

She hesitates, looking down at her twins with a faintly lost expression.

“... should that happen, my other children are old enough to take care of themselves and each other, for the most part,” she continues. “To find their own way in the world. But my twins aren’t. And I... I wouldn’t want them growing up alone like I did, or trying to... to avenge me, and suffering for it. They would need someone to raise them, to keep them safe and love them. A grown-up, because I wouldn’t burden my children with raising their siblings, not alone when they were struggling to find their own way. Some places in Creation have a... a person tasked with that duty to a child; someone to step in and be noted by the gods as their new mother or father if the parents should die. A godsparent, I think it’s called. My first choice would be Sasi, and they’ll go to her by preference... but her work is no safer, in some ways. And a threat that could claim me could claim her, easily.”

She looks up into Lilunu’s eyes. “If that happens, and Kali and Ogin are left without an adult guardian to raise them? I can’t think of anybody I trust more than you to make sure they grow up... if not _human_ , then at least happy, and safe, and cherished, and loved. My lady - Lilunu. Will you take this role? For them, and for any of my other children who need it?” A wave of her hand encompasses Zanara and Vali, and to a lesser extent Rathan.

((Ha ha, Lilunu just aced her willpower roll getting as many successes as she had dice))

Lilunu beams. “You... you mean that, Keris?” she asks softly. “No, no, you do. I... I would be honoured. Really. That you think so much of me to... to do this, it means the world to me.”

Something strange is happening with her eyes. Just for a moment, they’re not something ever-changing and inhuman. They’re simply a human scarlet, and they look lost and confused.

Then green comes in and washes that moment away. “I will treat them as I would my own,” she promises. “Thank... thank you so much.” She swallows. “And... and if you ever need someone to look after them for a while, perhaps because your missions take you across to some inhospitable place, they would be welcome with me.” She pulls out a delicate handkerchief, and wipes her eyes, saving the sparkling cloth. “But for now, let us eat.”

((D’awwww~))

“Thank you,” Keris breathes, a radiant smile crossing her face. She recedes from the conversation a little as servants bring in beautifully-arranged dishes of the finest cuisine; letting Zanara chatter away to Lilunu with Vali occasionally claiming her ear for a few comments here and there. Keris herself focuses on applying herself to her food and getting as much of it into Kali and Ogin as cleanly as possible - a feat more easily said than done.

“So, Keris, what were you up to in Creation?” Lilunu says a little way into the meal, eating tiny chunks of nearly-raw and heavily spiced meat off metal skewers. Kali adores the things, and Lilunu has been throwing her scraps which she has been wolfing down. “You were gone for nearly half a year.”

((Now comes the bit where Keris makes her report and decides what to mention and what to conceal.))

“Well, at first I had a- no, Kali... oh, fine then.” Keris abandons her attempt to reclaim her daughter, who has popped into her toothed bird form and hopped up onto the table, settling beside Lilunu’s plate and cheeping for each morsel. Somehow she can purr in bird form, which... okay, she can do it in tiger and human forms as well, but it’s a very odd sound coming from this shape.

“... yes, first I had a little favour to do for Orange Blossom,” Keris continues. “There was a Lookshyian gambit to plunder a sealed Shogunate city of the dead and loot Taira of its First Age relics. That’s actually where I picked up Kerisa. Anyway, that all went fantastically - I bloodied their noses, kicked them out of the city, framed Thorns for it - so two of our more persistent enemies will be at each other’s throats now - and got Orange Blossom a lot of sorcerous lore and some prime blackmail material about Lookshy’s plans. I’m sure she’s been making very good use of it - you've probably seen her report on the whole thing, so you'd know better than me.”

She smirks. “After that - well, Orange Blossom was kind enough to point me to my birthplace. Neither of my parents were there, though the ones responsible for taking them were still sort of in power, so I... resolved things there, picked up a mercenary force that will be useful for me down in the southwest, and followed my mother’s trail into the mountains. That’s where Kali and Ogin were born,” she adds with a grin, tickling Ogin under the chin and helping him sip from a little glass of something cold and almost gelatinous, with a shockingly minty-sweet aftertaste.

Rathan sees Keris’s mood dip, and leans over to squeeze her hand for the next bit. “Uh... suffice to say, I found my mother was d-dead,” Keris goes on. “She... it wasn’t recent; it happened not long after the raid. I spoke to her ghost, avenged her in Malra, caused some chaos for the Solar naib whose reign saw her killed and got Orange Blossom some more useful intel that I’ll share with her when I next see her. My search for my father... ended similarly. I... my reaction led to my gaining the Sapphire Circle. The whole messy affair gave me closure, I suppose, and wealth, but not... not what I’d been hoping for. And now, here I am.”

((Per + Politics to convey Keris’ version of the story and have Lilunu buy it, vs her MDV))  
((4+1+3 Mendaciloquent Maverick+1 bonus+2 stunt+5 Kimmy ExD {secrets, guile}=16. Covering herself with BOT. 8 sux, 7 on the BOT roll.))  
((Lol. _Barely_ squeaks it because of Lilunu’s strong Principle towards Keris lowering her MDV just enough that Keris gets through.))

Lilunu reaches over, and pats Keris’s hand as she runs her fingers down Kali’s back, producing a mix of happy peeping and purring. “That can’t have been easy for you,” she says gently. “But at least you did fine work there. I’m sure this will count in your favour.” She picks up another piece of finely diced meat, to feed to Kali, but then it vanishes from her fingers. She frowns.

“Oh, come on,” comes a childish voice in Old Realm, dripping with malice. A flash of movement in the reflection draws Keris’s attention and she turns - seeing nothing, hearing nothing.

She turns back to the reflective crystals, and for a moment almost thinks it might be her own po soul - but no, this silver snake-like being is a dragon, with scales, not feathers. It - she - swallows the scrap of meat, then coils along the reflective floor to lie on the floor around Lilunu. Then she shifts to coil over the table, looking up out of the shiny plate at Zana.

“So you’ll let her call you mother, but not me? Mother?” the dragon hisses.

Keris blinks in surprise, then her eyes narrow. “... your soul born of Szoreny?” she guesses, and shifts to address the reflection directly; trying to draw the dragon’s attention from Lilunu and Zanara. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Keris; may I ask yours?”

Her eyes flash subtly green as she reaches out with all her senses to the new arrival, trying to gain what knowledge she can about a being which seems to have no physical form at all; that Keris can only hear through echoes and see through reflections.

((Popping IEI and Wan Washed-Out Faces. Reaction+Awareness; 14 dice, 11 sux.))

Ah, such a hissing mirror-bright dragon, all cutting wit and watchful eyes and so toxic to be around. Keris knows these things well, because they run through her blood - and she knows this dragon is as perceptive and fast-witted as she is.

“Hermione, of course,” the dragon hisses, twisting and coiling until she’s a six-year old albino girl with long snow-white hair and slitted eyes so pale blue they’re nearly colourless. Many snake-like tails protrude from the back of her simple shift, and her teeth are a snake’s. She glares at Zana. “And you think to steal her from me?”

Zana smiles back - a smile with venom in it. “I steal nobody. Lilunu is so kind and generous she has enough love for many people,” she says - and Keris at least can see those words are aimed more at Lilunu than Hermione. “Hello, _sister_.”

((E6, Szorenic essence. Takes most pride in her Reaction 5))

“Nobody is stealing anybody from anyone,” Keris says, trying to head off the toxicity already rising in the air. “We’re all friends here - and all of us care about Lilunu.” She sends a pleading glance at Rathan, wordlessly asking him to step in and soothe the quicksilver dragon. With him, at least, she might find some fellow-feeling. They both have mercury in their blood, after all, and her son has considerable skill at quelling spite and calming tempers.

Rathan rises, spreading his hair comfortably. “Keris is right, but I don’t think we’re looking at things from her point of view,” he says, voice clear and words deliberate. “I don’t think it’s Hermione’s fault that she feels left out. I think it’s clear that her nature traps her in the reflections, but perhaps, Lady Lilunu, if we might set up a mirror on one of the seats, we might come to a fair compromise.”

Hermione stares at him, cheeks blushing. “That’s okay!” she blurts out.

The servants bring in a mirror, and Lilunu leans in to Keris. “I was afraid that she would be like this, but Rathan can handle her well, it seems,” she almost breathes. She clears her throat. “Is that better, Hermione,” she says, looking at the dragon girl whose reflection is now occupying a chair.

“Somewhat,” she says, glaring back at Lilunu.

“Good. Now, I believe Keris mentioned something about that little ghost girl she had, last time we met?” she says, clearly trying to change the topic.

((Rathan roll 16 successes, Rathan roll many gud 10s))  
((goddamn that boy is useful))

“Yes, well.” Keris clears her throat and lifts Ogin up so he can nestle on her shoulder and put his little arms as far around her neck as he can in a hug. “I’ll be heading back to Saata soon, but my false identity there - Little River - needs a daughter. And Kali and Ogin can’t pass as the child of a Dragonblood. So when I found Kerisa; an incredibly strong-willed little girl who clung on for seven hundred years or more in a dreary dead city after she was killed by the fae, it occurred to me that I could give her a second chance and solve my problem in one shot.”

She smiles, shifting her plate aside and drawing a couple of glasses closer to demonstrate; pouring from one into the other as she talks. “See, I happen to know that when a baby is born in Hell, whatever soul is closest gets drawn into it with its first breath. And they retain some memories of their past lives if that happens; they don’t go through Lethe. So if I arrange for that to happen to Kerisa, with preparation to purify the death-taint on her ghost and with a prepared body that has as high a chance of a Dragonblooded Exaltation as I can give it... well, then I have a baby for Little River; and one whose soul has shown itself to have an incredibly strong will and drive and sense of conviction, who’ll be able to draw on knowledge learned from other shades of the Shogunate in her past incarnation and who’ll probably Exalt when she’s older, if luck smiles on us.”

Turning to Lilunu, Keris inclines her head towards her mentor. “Which is where I hoped to get your help, my lady. I have many materials that such a body might be woven from - the blood and flesh of multiple Dragonblooded; of considerable strength and impeccable bloodlines. But when neomah try to weave together many different materials, the results have a chance of going... wrong. I was hoping you’d lend your aid - both in getting the services of the very best fleshweaver that can be found in Malfeas, and maybe in helping create a living work of art yourself.”

((Heh. Gee, a project all to do with weaving together many different types of flesh - and essence - into a single healthy body and ensuring it’ll be free of infirmity or sickness.))  
((I wonder why that might interest Lilunu? : D))

Lilunu nods, petting Kali as she considers things. “I have been in contact with certain well-reputed fleshweavers in my own attempts to create life,” she says, brow furrowed. “I know some of them, though our attempts to create a demon breed descending from me were unsuccessful.”

“And that’s your fault,” Hermione hisses, mercury oozing from her mirror and from the crystal wall too.

Lilunu flinches back at that, but Kali rubs her head against her hand and that seems to draw her back to herself. “There are, mmm. Yes, one of the daughters of Berengiere might well be who you could use - a once-mortal who learned flesh-weaving at her mother’s knee. I believe she has the skills for such a masterwork.”

“Thank you, my lady,” says Keris gratefully again. “Oh, actually... speaking of fleshweaving. One of... one of the wards I was housing in my townhouse ventured out of the grounds, and came in contact with a fruit that was loaded with... Metagaoiyn plague-spores.” She closes her eyes, forcing down the stab of guilt. “I’ve dealt with the outbreak in my townhouse, and I believe I can fix the survivor’s mutations, but as best I can tell; the fruit was found somewhere in the Conventicle. I thought I should warn you. Do you know where it might have come from?”

Lilunu frowns at that. “Are you sure? I have quite expressly forbidden such things within the All-Thing. If someone has been breaking my rules, I will be annoyed.”

“As sure as I can be,” Keris says. “It was definitely a fully wild plague-fungus. The one who brought it back succumbed, but the survivor - his sister - was quite firm that he hadn’t gone far to find it. And I doubt they’d stray from the Conventicle in any case. I can ask her in more depth once she’s better, if you’d like.”

“Please do.” Lilunu glowers. “I wish to keep _my_ realm free of the atrocities and unkindnesses I have heard tale of in the rest of the flesh of the King.”

Hermione laughs at that. “Oh, _mother_ , the only way you can do that is to get enough power that you can enforce it. They don’t respect you.” She sits back in her reflection-chair, hugging her knees. “Even some of your green sun princes don’t respect you. Keris,” she favours her with a smile, “at least does. She thinks you’re beautiful and loves your artwork. But I’ve seen others and they don’t look up to you.”

“Hermione!” Lilunu snaps.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

Keris frowns. “If the other peers don’t respect Lilunu, they _should_ ,” she says, with an edge to her voice. “More than any other Unquestionable, she is our patron. It’s her who holds our crown-souls and sends them out to us, and she’s as strong as any fetich. Younger than the others, yes. But I’m younger than Sasi whether you’re counting from the first breath or the second, and I’m still _her_ equal, or near enough.”

“Yeah!” Vali puts in, thumping the table hard enough to rattle every plate and glass within a metre or so. “And she’s a dragon whose _souls_ are dragons, so she’s way better than anyone who isn’t!”

“Oh, you are just treats,” Hermione hisses, with a voice that sounds much older than the body she’s wearing.

“Please! No more talk like this!” And Lilunu is worried, eyes wide, omen weather creeping out around her. “We’re just trying to have a lovely dinner here! Aren’t we?”

“Lili mew mew!” contributes Kali, who has apparently decided she wants to play with Lilunu’s tiger form again.

“Right, yes,” Keris apologises, ducking her head. “I’m sorry, my lady. How about a lighter topic?” She casts around... and smirks. “As a matter of fact - I mentioned I caused some chaos in the capital of that Solar lord whose rule saw my mother die? Well, he’s spent half a decade turning his capital into a place of beauty - and I _may_ have found reason to take a few of the quaint little things he’s come up with when I raided his palace, snuck into his innermost sanctum and smashed my way out through all his pitiful defences.” Her smirk becomes a wicked grin. “All without flaring my soul, in a way that framed another of his enemies, of course. Heh, I’m willing to bet he’s still dealing with that. Anyway...”

She reaches into her hair, and draws out the little folding canvaswing; unpacking it with a few quick motions and placing it gently on the table for Lilunu’s perusal. “These in particular caught my interest,” she says. “They’re delightful little things - and the full-size ones can bear a man aloft. There are even larger ones that can carry as many as two or three dozen, too.”

Lilunu’s eyes flare green, and she stares at the little thing, picking it up and fending it away from Kali who thinks it might be edible. “Oh my, Keris!” She chuckles. “What an amusingly quaint little thing! So simple - and yet so beautiful in its own way!” She rotates it, and pulls on the little ropes. “I can see whoever built this was inspired by birds,” she says. “It’s a clever little thing! Ropes for tendons, wood for bones, canvas for skin - and the people in them pull on these ropes so a man can fly! It barely seems worth all the effort when one could just graft wings to a human, but it’s so charming!”

“I know!” Keris enthuses. “And see; each individual feather is a prayer-strip to the wind gods. It reminded me a little of those flying-craft your love made for his war with Ululaya; the ones that brought the Silent Wind with them, and I thought-”

“It could be generalised to a method to invoke any spirit, yes,” Lilunu smiles, easily making the connection in a fraction of the time it had taken Keris. “My, you could come up with some wonderful little toys with such a method.”

“I can see a lot of ways it could be turned into an automaton, too,” Keris offers. “And that could make for some marvellous fun. Here, let me show you the blueprints; they give more detail...”

This quite adequately distracts Lilunu from that dark moment before. Oula - who has so far been somewhat muted; overawed by the surroundings and possibly scared as the sole demon of the first circle at the table - emerges from her shell somewhat, talking about how you might be able to reshape wood into more bone-like shapes with the proper application of mercury.

And _that_ leads into Lilunu asking Keris as to what nature of being Oula is - because she feels akin to the wave-cherub Keris gave her as a gift.

“Ah! Yes, that was something else that happened,” Keris nods. “Oula _was_ a wave-cherub - just as Rounen, actually, was a sziromkerub. But both of them... matured, I suppose. They entered a torpor-state for a period - for Oula it was a blood-and-mercury pearl egg overnight, while Rounen withered and lay as if dead for seven days - and woke transformed. Grown from childhood to adults. It doesn’t seem to be one-to-one, either. There are other sziromkeruby following two other paths of maturation, and I suspect there may be another that wave cherubs can follow. Some of the ones in their pearls have stayed there for more than a week, too, so the times might differ within a breed. It’s all very interesting.”

Lilunu’s hand goes to her mouth. “A maturing demon-breed?” she says. “I’ve never heard of something quite like this.”

Oula beams. “Well, I suppose I _am_ the first and best,” she says, resting her hand on her chest proudly. 

“You should tell her about the things you can do with architecture and how beautiful you think her city is,” Zana contributes.

And that only puffs her up more, and she’s openly speaking to Lilunu about means of shaping marble - and eyes sparkling, Lilunu is speaking back. “And you’re saying my wave cherub might become something like her?” she asks Keris. “Oh, that would be wonderful!”

Keris is a little distracted, though. Because she’s heard Zana edge out of the conversation, sweating as she concentrates hard. It’s not like Zana to pass over the chance for attention. And she’s heard the soft sounds of butterfly-winged Nara, shifting himself over to where Hermione is brooding.

They’re talking too, softly - really, Nara is basically mouthing words.

“Do you want to play a game, some time?” he asks her softly. “When no one else is watching. Because we like Lilunu a lot. She makes the most beautiful things. People _need_ to love pretty things. That’s pretty.”

“You love your artistic talents,” Hermione says softly.

“Yes, we do. And we’ll come as me-us, so you won’t have to talk to Zana being all like Lilunu. We’ll play some games. And talk. Won’t that be fun?”


	4. Chapter 4

The fleshweaver’s name is Xia, and she arrives three screams later. She almost floats into Keris’s townhouse, escorted by her large entourage of singers, dancers, and carriers of oversized fans.

To Keris’s mild surprise, she is not a neomah. Not precisely. Or rather, perhaps, she assumed that a child of Berengiere who was a fleshweaver would be one of those demons, but she is not - though the kinship is clear.

This demon once-mortal, Xia, is tall, slender, and pale blue. Her six arms are bedecked in baubles and trinkets, while she wears a sleeveless diaphanous gown. Her hair reminds Keris of some nuns she saw back in Nexus; bald on top, but with a long braid coiling around her and holding her gown shut like a belt.

“Unquestionable Lilunu requested my presence,” she mumurs, in what Keris recognises as an unmistakable Nexan burr.

“Welcome,” Keris replies, her eyes flashing green in the light of Ligier as she takes the measure of this citizen’s daughter. “And yes. I have a project in mind - a weaving together of flesh from several donors to produce an infant with the Dragon’s blood, and imbuing it with two proven souls. I asked Unquestionable Lilunu for the very best fleshweaver she could recommend for such a complex project. She suggested you.”

((Enlightenment 5, Malfean essence))

Two of Xia’s arms form mudra. “Now that’s a hard one,” she says, dropping into Rivertongue. To Keris, it sounds a bit like what the old people in Nexus spoke - a few decades out of date. In fact, she sounds a lot like some of the old ladies around Firewander. She might literally be from that district. “Dragon blood ain’t easy to weave in - not when you’re mixing things up.” She raises one finger, flashing marble teeth. “I’m not saying I couldn’t do it, though. No wonder you needed someone good, lady.”

“Well, you’re Nexan,” Keris points out with a grin. “Of course you’re the best. I’ve got materials from... three Dragonblooded, if Sasi follows through with my message to her. Two of them of strong bloodlines, one of exceptional power. Along with some of mine so she’ll be my daughter in truth...”

She purses her lips as a thought strikes her. Yes... yes, _that_ essence should still be circulating in her lungs, shouldn’t it? She’s held back from consuming it, mindful of her promise, and Eko hasn’t taken it either. “... and one more,” she muses slowly. “Which I can probably combine with mine to get it to you... yes, let’s talk details. I have some experience in bioalchemy and coaxing different types of essence into health and harmony, even if I’m not a proper fleshweaver.”

“Hah! I knew it was in your voice,” Xia says, grinning for all the world like a card shark as she looks over at her entourage - who clearly don’t understand Rivertongue from the looks on their faces. “Do they still tell tales of me? Xia Blue-Veil?”

((Cog + Lore Diff 2 to see if Keris remembers something of old street tales, giving her an advantage here.))  
((3+2+2 stunt=7. 2 sux, yay!))

Keris cocks her head. “My partner was always more one for the stories than me, but... no, wait, hang on. Yeah. Yeah, I think I heard that name somewhere. It was when I was laid up at Cally's with my arm broken and listening to the stories more ‘cause I was bored...”

It’s vague - wait, no, Keris does remember! Old Cally’d mentioned it once, when she was drunk! When she was young - she said - she’d been there when one famous harlot (“a real classy lady”) had danced for the crowds for free. And she’d said it’d been like a dream, and she’d seen things that couldn’t have been real, and everyone had been acting like they’d been drunk. Of course, most of Old Cally’s story had been related to the fact that the same night, she’d met her first husband.

And that had been the name of the dancer - Xia Blue-Veil. Old Cally’d said that she’d just vanished some day.

“You were a dancer, right?” Keris hazards. “The very best, and you danced for free one night; so well that people saw things that weren’t real or couldn’t be real or which they didn’t believe were real, and the whole crowd was drunk on it - and on you.”

Xia grins even wider. “Ha ha!” she crows. “So they do remember me!” She looks at Keris, resting her chin on one hand. “And you clawed your way up too, didn’t you? You didn’t come from no nobby academy or courtesan house.” She looks Keris up and down, undressing her with her eyes, before clearly coming to a conclusion. “In the same kind of way as me,” she decides. “The gods gave you a body to die for, but demons taught you how to use it to make men want to kill for you.”

Keris tilts a shoulder modestly, but shakes her head. “I grew up in Firewander, on the streets,” she admits. “So I wasn’t this pretty back then. I clawed my way up on wits and,” she wiggles her fingers, “quick hands. Got my looks here - and learned how to use them, yeah. Heh.” She grins. “Remind me to tell you about naib Beik while we’re working together. You’ll laugh.”

“Mmm hmm.” Xia sits back, stroking her braid. “Let’s talk my fee. As my sisters know, you don’t work for free.”

Keris nods. She’d known she’d be paying for this service - unlike Lilunu; she’s not an Unquestionable who can simply order and be obeyed. She considers Xia with a dispassionate eye, judging how much she’ll likely want for her help on a project this difficult. And oh, but she prices herself very highly indeed. She expects a king’s ransom for this kind of service - and is used to getting these kinds of prices. 

((She’d expect a payment equivalent to Artefact 1, or multiple Resources 5 payments.))  
((Yow. Hmm. Okay.))

“Well, that depends what kind of coin you want to be paid in,” Keris says. “A cult, perhaps? Some potent little trinket or wonder? A sacrifice; the heart of a god or a fae prince or an elemental crushed down into a jewel? I’m flexible - and I can lay my hands on plenty of different things in Creation.”

Xia taps Keris on the hand. “Rare flesh, fine souls,” she says. “That’s what interests me.”

((Is she asking for Keris’s flesh there, or just “interesting body parts from things she can’t get normally”?))  
((The latter, which the first is technically a subset of, but not an exclusive one. Also, Keris’s flesh isn’t worth enough to pay her off. :p))  
((Blasphemy! Keris’s flesh is very rare! Not only do you only find it in one place anywhere, but it’s also nearly impossible to get your hands on any! : P))  
((Basically offering a broad quantity of strange and often powerful things like that fae prince she fed to the Shashalme, then, along with less powerful but still odd samples from the Lintha and similar.))

“Ah,” smiles Keris. “Well, there I can definitely help you. There are plenty of fae in the Anarchy, along with orcamen, Lintha, and odder things besides.”

Xia considers. “We can deal. Once we agree the ingredients, I’ll be back in a few days with my proper working tools. My sisters might just need to cough up a tower, but that won’t get you quality like I can,” she boasts. “My tower is better than theirs, and still isn’t good enough for what you want.” She leans in. “So, what are you thinking, ingredients-wise?”

“I have the heads from two Dragonblooded from Lookshy,” Keris shares. “And samples from a Realm Dynast on there way. And I also got something very rare - a Solar’s child from the High First Age, caught and kept in my lungs as breath. I can mix that with my own blood for a short pregnancy and get it out before it’s developed much, as a core for the work - that’ll make the final product my child, as well as a blood heir to anything she was keyed into back then.”

“Hmm.” Xia nods professionally. “And the souls you mentioned, lady?”

“A hun and po,” Keris replies. “Both exceptional. Both ghosts. The first is willing - she was killed in the Balorian Crusade, trapped in a dead city hemmed in by sorcerous mist, and stuck it out there for seven hundred years; refusing to fade, refusing to forget, refusing to go mad or twisted or bitter, even long after every other ghost there went to Lethe. All on the strength of a promise. She’s the strongest-willed little girl I’ve ever met, and probably one of the stubbornest and most determined people period. I gave her the simple explanation of what I’m thinking of doing, and she’s all for it.”

She purses her lips. “The po is... a little more complicated. Suffice to say, this particular hungry ghost rose about seventeen years ago - less than two decades, yeah? And when I met her, she was as strong as a demon lord. Stronger even than you. She clawed its way up to that strength, by herself with nothing but animal cunning and force of will, in seventeen years - and spent five of them right next door to a Solar-led nation. She nearly killed a champion of the Sun at least once that I know of for sure. She landed a solid blow on _me_ , where a fae king almost as strong as a weak Unquestionable couldn’t. She _escaped_ me the first time we fought. I have her trapped in crystal - if we can boil off all the deathly power she’s gorged itself on; the soul at the centre has a drive and a will to survive like almost nothing I’ve seen before.”

She keeps half an eye on Xia as she speaks, emphasising the exceptional nature of the souls she’s planning to use, though given the memory of the second one’s credentials... Keris can’t help but be distracted. And because she's watching, Keris sees the flicker of greed in Xia's eyes. Oh, that is exactly the kind of soul she's after, Keris is willing to bet.

((Keris detects she has a 4 dot principle of “Collect Fine Souls”))

“But they won’t be needed until the end,” she adds. “Also, Kerisa would be at risk here in Hell and I’m not willing to risk the po getting loose, as deadly as it is, so I’ll be keeping them close to avoid any accidents.”

There’s a gleam of disappointment in her eyes. “Well, if you could find any other fine souls like that, they would do fine as a price,” Xia observes.

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Keris agrees neutrally. “So, shall I show you the materials I have?”

“If your materials aren’t up to standard, I still get paid,” Xia says with a shrug. “That’s my terms. So I’ll head back to collect my materials and tools, and Unquestionable Lilunu has set aside a space for me to work in. It’ll be several screams before I’m back - my servants will need to uproot my workshop and carry it with them.”

“Until then, then,” Keris nods, rising. “I can’t wait.”

“Right you are,” the demon says. She straightens up. “See you later, lady.” She prepares to leave, with her entourage trailing behind her.

“You went softer on hearing that Nexan accent,” Dulmea observes within her head.

“‘Course I did,” Keris murmurs inwardly. “She’s Nexan. I can trust her more than strangers who think in different ways.” She pauses. “Well, okay, not _trust_ , but... you know what I mean.”

“I honestly do not, child,” Dulmea says, audibly shaking her head.

((Oh, Keris and Nexans.))

Keris checks on Piu again, easing her pain and purging the spores from her... well, her _less_ infected half, and after that she decides she needs a bath to scrub out the sickly sweet scent of the fungus.

Sinking into the water, she fans out her hair and submerges. It’s relaxing. It’s quiet. It’s...

“Well, look at you,” a voice says in her water filled ears. Keris looks up. A silver serpent looks down on her, coiling on the surface of the water where the interface reflects her face. “Are you having fun here, Keris? Maybe you’re looking for a companion to share your bath? Someone whose skin you can caress and touch?”

Keris blinks, taken aback again by the similarity to her po, then remembers the age of the demon talking to her and pulls her hair across to cover herself.

“Hermione,” she says in greeting; Old Realm undistorted by the water save for a stronger Kimberian accent than usual. “Lovely to see you again. But if I wanted someone to touch in here, I’d just make another me.”

She stretches without surfacing, her lithe body concealed by metres of blood-red hair and marred here and there by jagged scars of metal and stone. The part of her that acts as a flower to conceal her thorns and fangs blooms into wakefulness. She’s taken the measure of what Hermione values about herself. What does she expect from Keris, though?

((Activating Flowering the Fairer Face - which may, heh, make her aware of any taboos that govern interactions with Hermione and what not to mention, as well as taking a read motive action to learn what Hermione expects from her in reactions and motives.))  
((OK, so Hermione doesn’t care about her nudity, possibly because she’s also female, possibly because she’s a demon lord who’s only picked out her cultural stuff by spying on people in the All Thing. She seems remarkably devoid of cultural standards - likewise, again, because she’s very young - but she does take people being mean to her or flaunting their superiority or importantly their ability to touch things over her very badly. Which. Uh. You stumbled into just before you used the Charm.))

Hermione’s eyes narrow. “Look at you, being able to make someone to touch whenever you want,” she says in a voice that’s sickly sweet. “How lucky of you. You must be so pleased.”

Keris cringes internally, realising her mistake too late to correct it, but doesn’t let it show on her face. “I’m sorry,” she apologises. “That was cruel of me; I shouldn’t have said it.” She shakes her head. “What can I do for you, Hermione? Are you here to see Rathan or Zanara? Or did you want me for something?”

In Hermione’s eyes, she can see exactly what the dragon above her expects. She expects Keris to get angry at her, and to want her to go away. She expects to get yelled at and driven off.

“I came to talk to you,” Hermione says, coiling around herself, slender wings wrapping around her scales. Her voice, Keris is starting to realise, is just echos - coming a fraction of a second after her mouth moves. “But clearly you don’t want me. You just want to gloat about how you can have someone to keep you warm whenever you want.”

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen,” Keris says, lying still against the bottom of the bath so as not to disturb the reflection Hermione inhabits. “It sounded at dinner like you had a lot to say. About Lilunu. About the other peers.” Her eyes narrow fractionally at that one. “About how things _should_ be. And they were good points. I bet you have more, too. Do you want to share them?”

The dragon smiles, baring silvery fangs. Ah, there’s the same thing she saw from Hermione at the dinner - the same sudden shifts in mood, and more than that the sudden shift to liking someone who’s just... even a little bit nice to her.

“Of course,” she says, tilting her head. Her scales ripple, and now she’s an albino Keris, spread out above her, hair floating around her. She’s looking for shock or surprise from Keris here, and expecting anger.

Keris... _is_ a little surprised, but not as much as another might be. Keris, after all, has seen herself cast pale and white-haired and sharp-toothed before. Hermione’s eyes are draconic and red rather than the slitted grey of a cat or a snake, but even in that, there's a resemblance. All that’s really different is that her features don’t have quite the same bestial, predatory air that marks a Fang of Pekhijira.

Instead of gasping or scowling, Keris smiles back.

“Clever,” she compliments. “Hah, you even copied how my hair can move, didn’t you? Very clever. Okay, go on then. I’m all ears.”

Now _that’s_ thrown Hermione off balance. “Everyone else gets sulky or screams a bit when I do that,” she complains. “You didn’t. Why not?” She jabs a hair strand at Keris, never breaking the water’s surface. “And why are you covering yourself up? Almost no one does that!” She frowns. “Why are you weird?”

“You look a lot like I do sometimes,” Keris explains. “When I call on one of my powers; I look a lot like you do now. It’s not the first time I’ve seen myself like that. And I’m covering up because...” She frowns uncomfortably and shrugs, not quite able to put it into words. It’s a bit like how she wouldn’t just walk around naked near Rathan - but then, Hermione is more like Haneyl than him in some ways, isn’t she? Or perhaps Calesco; all barbs and cutting words. And she’s fine bathing with both of them...

“I dunno,” Keris concedes, letting her hair drift away, exposing the horrific bite-scar that Maryam’s yidak gave her. It’s looking better than it was; the basalt and brass receding slightly as her body reabsorbs them, but there’s a ways still to go. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m just weird. But I thought you were going to talk about you and your thoughts, not me.”

“I mean, that wasn’t why I came,” Hermione says. She’s slightly distracted playing with her hair as she says this. “But your Rathan is like me, isn’t he? I could smell the mercury in him,” she hisses.

Keris nods slowly - cautiously. “I dreamt of the Silver Forest while I was in Taira,” she says. “When I woke up, I had quicksilver in my blood and envy in my belly. Rathan took that part of my nature into himself.”

“Then why does _he_ get a body and a voice?” she hisses. “What did he have to do to be able to get out of the mirrors?”

“He wasn’t born in them,” Keris says sadly. “But that’s one of the things I want to help Lilunu with. Helping you, and your siblings. Getting you a way to leave the mirrors, healing Bruleuse’s burns, that sort of thing.”

Hermione perks up, coils in on herself, and becomes an albino Lilunu, staring down at Keris. “Oh, come on,” she says sweetly, in the echo of Lilunu’s voice, “you can tell me how to do that, Keris. I can have so much fun if you _just get me out of these mirrors_.”

“I’ll find a way,” Keris promises. “I don’t know yet, but I’m looking, Hermione.”

“Good, good.” She runs her hair through her white hair. “What do you think of Orabilis?” she asks artlessly. “Or Ligier? Or any of the other _big_ Unquestionable?”

Keris considers that for a while, nodding to show that she’s giving the question its due attention. She considers Hermione. Thinks about how valuable she might find an answer. About - if she’s right in her guess and Hermione opposes the rulers of Hell - how much she’d value an ally against monsters like the End of All Wisdom. It doesn't take much thought. Hermione would value any ally massively, she decides after only brief thought. Beyond massively. Keris can see the desperation in her eyes.

((Res 5))

She purses her lips.

“I owe Ligier a lot,” she says. “I’m grateful to him for what he’s done for me - but,” she adds as Hermione’s face begins to twist in disappointment and something uglier - “Orabilis...”

She lets the name hang for a moment, and then swallows her voice. To Hermione, and Hermione alone, she speaks in mute gestures. She describes what she heard in his sanctum, the interactions she’s had with him - the suffering he perpetuates, the callous arrogance of his claim on her work, the cold refusal to let her know the secrets that could help heal Lilunu.

She hates him. She hates Ululaya. She hates what she’s heard of the Blue Glass Maiden; Iudicavisse. So many of the Unquestionable are monsters - not like citizens, among whom she counts friends and allies - and few if any of them, in Keris’s eyes, should be unleashed on Creation. Her gestures are tiny and fearful, even made as they are to none but Hermione, in utter silence beneath the water at the heart of Keris’s home - for she knows that what she speaks is treason, and were they to learn of her heresy the Unquestionable would turn on her and she would be destroyed.

There’s a cold glee, a murderous brightness in Hermione’s eyes. “Oh, I _like_ you”, she breathes. “I like you a lot.” She exhales, and her breath takes the form of a brick-red flower in her hand. “Find me a nice mirror, play with me, tell me stories, and I’ll show you how to do this,” she promises. “I’ve seen Yuula do this. I can do it too. And she uses these flowers for healing. I can teach you all kinds of things. If I wasn’t stuck in this mirror, I could heal that girl of yours in an instant. Wouldn’t you love my power? And that’s just a fraction of what I could do? I’ll give you a little bit, just so you could see what you’re missing out on.”

And there’s desperation in her voice there. Desperation, and a desperate hope that Keris is jealous of those talents.

_Now_ Keris is surprised. Healing with mercury - _exactly_ the gift she was trying to develop for Piu. And for nothing more than caring for a lonely little girl with the power of a demon lord, locked away where she can’t touch anyone or interact with the world? Keris would have done that anyway, most likely. And she wants that power. She wants that power a lot.

A beaming smile spreads across her face. “Well,” she teases. “If I’m going to go find you a really pretty mirror and think up some good stories, I’ll need to get up and break the water’s surface.” She nods to the side. “There’s one over there you can move into while I do. And then you can decide on what kind of stories you want to hear while I dry off.”

((goddamnit Keris, this is your proto-Kalaska))  
((She’s collecting a gaggle of little demon lord adoptees. : D))  
((... the collective noun there might be a “terror”, actually. Or a “catastrophe”.))

Keris spends several hours with Hermione, who is... well, she’s not exactly a child. She’s not like Keris’s souls. But she’s very young regardless. She listens wide-eyed to Keris’s stories, she plays mirror-games with her, and she talks about things she’s seen in Creation.

And then she has Keris come close to her, and exhales a cinnabar flower onto the glass. “Take it,” she tells Keris. “Eat it.”

It crunches as Keris chews it. She tastes its sickly sweet odour as it goes down.

Hermione giggles. “It worked! It worked! And I managed to get something out into you!” She turns back into a dragon, and slithers away, laughing.

((D’awww~))  
((... she just dosed Keris with quicksilver sap, didn’t she?))  
((Yes, she did.))

Well, Keris thinks. That seems fairly straightforward. It’s flowers again - and she’s good at flowers; she knows flowers pretty well. Honestly, she was kind of an idiot for not thinking of Szorenyn flowers before this. He is the Silver _Forest_ , after all. So, she just has to work out how to make the mercury sap in her blood blossom into flowers and petals of well-being. Though it’ll still probably give her patients mercury poisoning if- wait.

Keris frowns, opening up an internal mouth and tasting a few drops of her blood. There’s mercury in it, obviously; there always is. But there’s more than usual. And the extra stuff isn’t just dissolved into her bloodstream like the natural amount is.

... dammit Hermione. Though, no, Keris supposes she walked into that one when she ate the cinnabar flower. She’ll let the dragon have this one.

Her thoughts are interrupted when an almost-vibrating Zanara all-but breaks down the door.

“Keris!” Zana shouts. “Keris Keris Keris look what I made you’ve been locked away all day you haven’t been playing with me at all look at me look at me!”

She holds up what... well, Keris vaguely remembers playing cat’s cradle with bits of thrown away twine as a kid on the streets. But Zana has long, many-jointed fingers, hair-thin silk, and clearly a lot of patience.

It’s like an army of spiders tried to spin a the world’s best web around her fingers.

Keris opens her mouth.

A few moments pass.

Keris closes her mouth again.

“Um?” she says. “Wait, couldn’t you use your hair... never mind. Let me see?” She kneels down for her daughter, gently turning the tangle this way and that to look at it from different angles. “Well, you certainly put spiders to shame with your weaving. Do you think you can hook it onto something else to keep? Or is it the kind of art that’s pretty because you undo it all once you finish it?”

“Yeah! Making it is the fun part! I’m going to go and find Lilunu and show her how to make it too! I bet she’ll be super impressed,” Zana blurts out, then sprints away out the door.

Well, Keris thinks. She certainly seems happy. She’ll have to mention later on that Hermione came by. Right now, though, she wants some cuddling time with her babies while she tries to get this cinnabar-flower trick down.

Keris finds Vali has been left looking after Kali and Ogin alone. She frowns. That was meant to be Rathan’s job. Where is he... oh. She glowers. Him and Oula have snuck off looking for their own entertainment.

At least Vali is actually being a good big brother here. He’s in the gardens and he’s dug out a big pit for him and the babies, which he’s filled with sand from the gardens. Kali is crawling around, crushing sandcastles, while Ogin is snoozing on top of a pile of cushions.

“Hey mum!” Vali shouts up.

“Hey Vali,” she smiles. There’s sand all over Kali, she notices. _All_ over. “Let me guess; you buried Kali in a sandcastle so she could power up inside it and then explode out and smash all the other sandcastles around it?”

“Yeah. I think she’s not trying hard enough,” Vali explains. “She can be a bird and a cat, but she’s gotta be a dragon too! Sasi’s baby managed it so yours has gotta do it too because my lil sister has to be as good as her!”

Ogin wakes up, and gives an adorable little yawn.

“Mama!” Kali chirps. “Grrr! Grr!” She crawls over another sandcastle.

“Good girl, Kali!” Keris praises, as her daughter headbutts a lopsided tower with her eyes closed and tries to pick up some of the sand with her hair. She picks Ogin up and kisses him on both cheeks, then rests him on her shoulder, letting him tug at her ear and investigate her hair. “Say, Vali? How do you feel about helping Hermione get out of her reflections? She’s trapped inside them and can’t get out and touch things on this side of the mirrors at the moment, so she deserves a body.”

“I dunno, mum. She’s kind of mean,” Vali says. “But...”

Ogin squirms in Keris’s grasp, wriggling around to hold his arms out to Vali. Vali instinctively steps over, and takes his little brother, who wraps his tails around his waist tightly and grasps onto his torso with chubby arms.

“Hey, what’sa matter, Og?”

Ogin looks at Vali with his big liquid eyes.

“Yeah, not getting you.” He shifts, and turns his attention back to Keris. ”I mean, it’s pretty bad to be stuck in a mirror, but she’s got to want to get out hard enough. She hasn’t been in there very long, so maybe she’s not just built up enough pressure to get out.”

“I dunno,” Keris says thoughtfully. “I think - like I said before - I think it’s more that Lilunu’s energy is working against itself. She and her souls can’t power up enough to get strong, because they’re caught in a loop where most of their essence is clashing.” She punches her fists forward, then together, to demonstrate. “I met one of her other souls when I was in Hell before. Trust me, he definitely wants it enough - and he’s been around and like that for a long time.”

Vali scratches his sandy hair. “Well, I guess, could she possess something out in Creation?” he suggests. “Maybe something made of mirrors? Or, a beast made of mercury?” He crosses his arms. “Nothing clever or that doesn’t want her, though!” he insists.

Keris nods. “I guess I’ll have to learn how to summon demon lords, then,” she agrees. “Oh! That reminds me. I need to meet Asarin soon. Or ask her to swing by the townhouse and pick up her art... yeah, I might do that. She’s a lot like Haneyl, so you’ll probably like her. I’ll send her a messenger whenever Rounen finishes sorting through my sorcery notes.”

Ogin pats Vali on the hand, and Vali seems to understand that that means he wants down. He carefully places Ogin on the ground, who crawls over and hug-tackles Kali, pulling her back before she can stick her head into a sand hole.

Vali doesn’t notice, because he’s more scratching his head. “Didn’t you say to, uh, Ligier back last time that you kinda wanted to keep us secret?” he asked. “I mean, if you changed your mind, that’s fine, but I don’t think you told me that.”

“I think I can trust Asarin,” Keris says, after a moment’s thought. “I mean, you’re right, and I’m still keeping you secret from most of Hell; I don’t trust... certain demons as far as I can physically throw their landscape forms. But Asarin’s alright. And I’m probably going to be summoning her into Creation anyway.” She cocks her head. “Does it annoy you, that I want you to stay unknown for now until Ligier pushes through some protections for you?”

Vali flops down. “I dunno,” he says. “We don’t really spend much time here, do we?” He puts some thought into it. “I mean, I guess I’d like to do stuff in Hell, but I don’t know what,” he says easily. “I like home more. And this isn’t my home.”

“Home as in...” Keris taps her chest. “Or home in Creation; the southwest?”

“Oh, definitely the Spires, mum.” Vali sits cross-legged on the ground, and starts making another sand castle. “This is the first time I’ve been out. I don’t see why Zana ‘specially is making such a big deal about it. My friends aren’t here and the food’s not as good as home.” He looks up at Keris. “I do want Hanny back,” he says. “She’s been gone for ages and ages. I miss her.”

“I know, honey,” Keris says, putting a sympathetic arm around him. “We’re heading back to the southwest with a new baby as soon as we’re done here, and you can see Aiko in person and spar with Haneyl again and meet Sasi. Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you promised me and Zanara that we’d get to be out and help with your new house, remember!” Vali reminds her. “No going back on that! Ever!”

“Oh, believe me, I have plans for my new house,” Keris grins. “And they definitely include you. Hey, and you can help get Ali’s forge rebuilt. You remember the waterwheel thing he had back in Baisha? We can make a better one.”

Vali nods. “Yeah! I made some back home already! I got lots of rivers, mum! You need steep water to get power out of a river! I’m not sure it’ll work in Saata because it’s kind of flat, but I saw the Shoe Moo place and that had steep rivers!”

“Guess we know where we’re setting up, then,” Keris nods. “And Shuu Mua’s better anyway. More out of the way; more space to do stuff.” She holds a fist out to Vali. “It’s a promise, then.”

He bumps it with his own. “Promise!”

Vali and Keris are distracted by the babies as Ogin starts crying because Kali got sand in his eyes. Keris winds up playing with her son and the two babies in the sand pit for an hour and a bit, then makes sure that they’re fed and put to sleep. 

Then she’s off to Piu. 

“Hey, Piu,” she says.

“La’y,” Piu wheezes.

((OK, it’s Diff 8 to do this, a major thing, and base 24 hours. As it stands, Keris is rolling to extract her from the fungus parts, basically cutting out what she can save. The Piu she gets out and without the infection at the moment will be alive, but a paraplegic with one arm.))  
((Gotcha. And that’s with Keris using CBI to kill off the fungus?))  
((Yeah, basically right now Keris is curing what she can, and excising what she can’t, so she can get Piu to a bed.))

“Hey Piu,” Keris says quietly. “I’m gonna get you better now, okay? All in one go. It won’t be quite as quick as the last time I healed you, but it’ll be just as good. Do you want to be awake for it, or asleep?”

“Will it hur’?” Piu wheezes, exhaling spores.

“No,” Keris promises. “You’ll be hopped up on enough painkillers that you won’t feel any pain. It’ll be gross, though. I’ll have to cut the infected bits away and regrow them. There’ll be a really nasty bit in the middle between those two, even without any pain.”

“Don’t wanna see gross things,” Piu whispers. “And if I die with your sawbones stuff, at least I won’t feel anything. Just go to sleep. See ‘em all again.”

“Sleep it is, then.” Keris leans down to carefully kiss her forehead. “When you wake up, you’ll be better again. I promise.”

“Than’ you, la’y,” Piu croaks.

((OK, to use CBI, you need to get the time down to less than 1 hour.))  
((Okay, so... _can_ Keris get the time down to under an hour? She can speed it up with FWT by a factor of 20, but you said 24 hours. Then again, the bit I want in this case is the second clause, which lets me bypass the requirement for drugs or medicines by substituting cinnabar. Can I split it into [treat fungus], [cut away what’s not salvageable], [regrow what is]?))  
((Yeah, remind me of that later and I’ll probably have to rewrite the charm a bit so the clauses are the right way around to be able to do that, but that was my intent.))  
((Cool.))

Keris plays for the little girl until she falls asleep, lulling her into dreams on the strands of Time. Then she gets to work. Leaning down over Piu, she breathes out gently, and exhales a sweet-scented mist like floral perfume that Piu’s deep, even breathing draws into her lungs. Keris keeps track of it with her root-tendrils as the mercury vapour works its way into Piu’s bloodstream, where - oh, that’s convenient; her ocean-blood will fight it off eventually without Keris needing to remove it later. But for the moment, Piu’s immune system seems to recognise the use of pitting two enemies against each other, and ferries the deadly metallic sap to the Metagaoiyn fungus infesting her.

Beleaguered spores begin dying in droves as mycelium shrivels and screams. It’s not pretty. It’s not really even kind. Keris is a gardener spraying poison to kill plants, and if some flowers die - well, it’s the cost of progress.

She sacrifices two limbs immediately, simply cutting the blood vessels off from them, and gives up on the other leg shortly afterwards. Piu will need to survive on one lung and one kidney for a bit, because Keris needs to focus her efforts on saving the heart and most of the liver.

She cuts. She sterilises. She poisons. 

And before the next scream, Keris is leaving, carrying some of a girl. But she’s closed off the blood vessels. And she has experience with Xasan. Everything else, she can regrow.

She’ll need to do something very, very nice for her.

Laying her down on the bed, she gets started. She’s growing Piu an entirely new body - which means that she really better make sure it’s a good one. She starts on the organs first, rebuilding what Piu needs to live. Then comes her face - because Keris feels like being pretty and able to speak again as soon as possible will make her happier before the next round of healing. The missing arm and her legs will be next, either in this session or the next one, and after that it’s just general stuff - her skin, her cannibalised muscle tone, the leeching of her bones that the fungus had drawn rigidity from. She considers as she works whether she could blast open Piu’s chakras to awaken her essence... but no, that’s probably best saved for another time, when Piu’s body is in better shape to handle the stress.

Of course, Keris isn’t just a miracle worker when it comes to medicine. She also has more minor miracles to work, like clearing up after the mess that Ogin has made when he wet himself, and trying to calm Kali down. This requires her to also get Vali out of the room, because the reason her daughter is overexcited is that Vali has been showing off his pet kat and the prescence of another feline has got Kali running in circles madly as a tiger cub, knocking things off surfaces when she smacks into them.

As a result, when Keris has finally got them settled down, she’s ready for a nap herself. She sinks down into meditation, two warm little bodies sleeping on her chest. 

She emerges in the Near Ruin, where winds from the Rim blow through a mish-mash of brightly coloured stalls and ribbons tied to flagpoles snap and blow. There’s a gaggle of szelkeruby giving some kind of stage performance to an audience. Since they’re szelkeruby, it seems to mostly be slapstick and mockery, but the audience are finding it funny.

((... lol, time to plant that szilfa panic condition))

Unwilling to disrupt the show, Keris sneaks up quietly and plants herself at the side of the stage to watch, unnoticed by actors or audience. They seem to be mocking Firisutu, which doesn’t surprise her at all, and also probably means Eko will be in attendance somewhere. Or at the very least, she probably encouraged the subject matter.

((Phys + Subterfuge, Diff 3.  
... alif are you going to appear in Scarlet Rapture Shintai?))  
((mebbe))  
((5+5+3 Lurking Predator+2 stunt=15; 11 sux.))  
((easily managed))

She lurks and watches for a while, a plan coming together in her head, and waits for an opportune moment in the free mockery contest the play has become - or maybe that’s the idea? She missed the start, so she can’t say. But she sees her chance just as the lead szelkerub wonders aloud, finger tapping on his chin, who the Firisutu of the audience is; the dullest and most boring and whiny of them all.

Springing out of hiding, Keris lets her glee and mischievous joy bubble out and carry her flesh away to nowhere, landing on the stage as a whirl of wind and ribbons who spins and gestures at everyone on stage, revealing that the _real_ Firisutu was in all of them all along! This whole play has been whining, after all!

There are gestured screams, panic, and the szelkeruby scattter like ribbons on the wind. Within a minute Keris in the wind-form is the sole observer - that, and a few femkeruby who stayed behind to eat the dropped honey and sugar-fluff off the floor.

Snickering, she stretches and wags a finger in the air. She knows Eko is there, so she might as well come out, she implies knowingly.

But there’s no sign of Eko here. Not even when Keris listens for patches of silence.

Frowning, Keris spins round a few times to make sure and puts her hands on her hips, huffing. If Eko’s not going to show up the one time Keris could have been smart and caught her out on hiding behind her, she’ll just have to go find her daughter herself. Cocking her head, she listens to the flutterings of her heart and jogs off in the direction that feels most like her eldest.

Keris asks the keruby, scours the Ruin, even sets up ways that she could be caught out by an Ekoan prank. But there’s no sign of her. Not even a trace when Keris stands next to a pit of cool tar with her back turned and loudly hopes no one pushes her in.

In the end, she comes across Firisutu, who has occupied a ziggurat just outside the walls of the Inner City, closest to the Spires. He’s bringing in stone and metal from there, building odd architecture that reminds her of the maps he used to make when he was a mere first circle.

The golden ape sees her, and bows, folding one set of arms into mudra. “My lady,” he says, including his outer heads and his inner heads. “How may I serve you?”

“Do you happen to know where Eko is?” Keris asks, her concern having pulled her out of her joyful wind-body some time ago. “Only I can’t find her. And given how we’re in Hell, I’m starting to get real worried she’s escaped again.”

“Ah, yes.” Firisutu raises one finger. “If you will observe the widdershins movement of this iron crane,” he points at a crude metallic thing that does indeed look like a bird, “you will see that the motive force of the Ruin is not present. Princess Eko is indeed not in attendance, and I am planning to use this chance to take a census of the Ruin as well as the Spires and the Isles. All three leaving at the same time! It has been very quiet with just Princess Calesco here.” He sighs happily. “No doubt I will feel less content when I have to manage five directions of keruby, but for now, things are harmonious.”

He sits. “And while you are here, might I have a word about certain of your servants without this realm?”

Keris makes a face at the news that Eko is missing, but marks that as something to deal with later. “Go ahead,” she invites, plopping down with legs folded. “Which servants in particular?”

“Kuha and Piu, of course. And perhaps your uncle, too. On the latter part, you have been somewhat avoiding him. He has promised to follow you wherever - would it not be better to arm him with knowledge to know of the dangers of the outside world?” He tilts his head serenely. “But that comes second to just talking to him, no?”

Lips thinning, Keris looks away. “Talking to him... means talking about what happened with mama,” she says. “How it ended. I’m not...” She shakes her head and changes tack. “What dangers of the outside world do you mean? The Immaculates, or more details about Hell, or what?”

“Both - but he was her brother, too. You should talk to him about that. You know he must be hurting too.” It’s strange to get advice from a metal statue piloted by a monkey skull about such human things.

“I know,” Keris grouses. “It just... it... I can’t even talk about it with Dulmea yet, and she was _there_.” She drags a hand down her face, and her shoulders slump. “And then this stuff with Piu came up... maybe I could just ask Calesco to send him an arrow-dream and let him see for himself. Least then I don’t have to go through it all over again.”

Keris gets the feeling he’s frowning. “You have to do right by him. And then we need to talk about your servants. You haven’t checked on Kuha and how she’s coping with having Calesco possess her for extended time periods. And as for Piu... you owe her safety. And health.”

“She’s past the infection,” Keris says more confidently. “Now it’s just a matter of giving her a new body back. And Kuha is... well, she’s _physically_ okay. I checked after Calesco left her.” She purses her lips and sighs. “I prob’ly should talk to her about their relationship, though. Even if it’ll be awkward.”

“You owe Piu more than that,” Firisutu says. “You owe her for the neglect, for the loss of her family. Your people shouldn’t just be paid back in equal measure. They are _your people_. Your duty is to lead them well, make sure they prosper, and ensure they are the best.” He looks over the things he is making. “That is what I will do. Even for the least, most stupid, worst of your creations. By which I mean the keruby.”

Keris shrinks, guilt churning in her stomach again. “I... I know, alright? I shouldn’t have left her here. I shouldn’t have left _them_ here.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she wraps her arms around herself, her hair twisting and knotting unhappily. “She loves to dance, you know that? She showed me last time I was here. She’s good. Or... was good, I suppose. Will be again, when I give her legs back.” Her teeth worry at her lower lip. “I think I’ll offer to make her Cinnamon’s apprentice. That way she can be in Creation under my eye. And whatever I build with Cinnamon will have an heir.”

Firisutu considers it. “If she is worthy and can handle caring for that which you build, that might be wise.” He pauses. “And as for Kuha, that would also be wise.”

A wistful smile crosses Keris’s face. “It’ll be good to be back in the southwest. I mean, I’ll need a good explanation for why I was gone so long, but... I reckon I can claim the Hui Cha this year. I’ve already got Pale Branch, and Jade Fox just needs that marriage to go through. Two of six - and Lucky Wolf is weak and needs funds, so I can get him too. And once they’re mine...”

She looks up at the ziggurat, and past it to the black star-speckled sky and the shining red moon.

“Once they’re mine, the trade of the Anarchy will follow.”

Mulling over what moves to make when she's back in Creation, Keris continues work on rebuilding Piu. She makes sure to feed her lots and lots of meat and milk and other such things so she has material to work with as she teases out bones and reconstructs organs.

Of course during one of her breaks she finds out Xia is going to be late, because apparently there’s a war in the way and she has to now negotiate with both sides to let her servants carry her tower through. Annoying.

But at least this means that the demon hasn’t shown up by the time she finishes reshaping the last of the branch-like arm she grew into a perfect human hand.

“You know,” Calesco observes in her head, “you’ve done it again. The same thing you did to Kuha. You always do like your own looks, Mama. She looks a little bit like you do, now.”

And... it’s not untrue. Piu’s skin is darker; her features have a slight Tairan cast to them; her fingers are longer on the arms. Keris didn’t... mean it. It just happened because she was making her beautiful!

“How do you feel?” she asks Piu rather than reply to her daughter, helping the girl up and showing her a mirror - which until this point have been banned from the recovery room. “Is there any dizziness? Are you balancing okay?”

Piu lifts up one hand, rotates it, revolves it, clenches her fingers. “I feel.. funny,” she says slowly. She licks the corner of her mouth, where it had been overgrown. “Is this... really my body, lady? It... you cut most of it away.” She clenches her hand into a fist. “So whose hand is this?”

“Your new one,” Keris tells her. “If you cut a branch of a tree and it grows back, it’s still the tree’s branch. I just made your body grow back the bits I had to cut away.” She kneels down to get close to Piu’s height... which, uh, actually takes her slightly _under_ Piu’s height, because Keris is not a tall woman and Piu comes up to her chest even though she’s still a child. “Try moving? You should get used to it quickly. Kuha can tell you more about this kind of recovery; she’s been through it herself.”

It’s slow going at first, but Keris is there to guide her through her first steps on her new legs, and fairly soon she’s tottering. Then walking. Then running.

Her stamina is still poor after what the fungus took, but that’s something to build up.

“I know you look a bit different now,” Keris explains a bit awkwardly as she guides Piu through a simple hopping exercise. “I had to use some of my flesh as a seed to grow your new bits. I, uh... I mean, I think you look very pretty, but if you don’t like it...”

Piu nods, as if this is something normal to her. “You’re the most pretty lady I know,” she says in her Nexan burr. It’s a reminder she’s still a kid. “I wanna grow up to be pretty too!”

Keris nods, relieved. “Okay then. In that case, I have an offer for you. I have a teacher - a _really_ beautiful great lady whose art is better than mine. Mehuni’s told you about Unquestionable Lilunu, yeah? Whose city the Conventicle is?”

Piu nods, wide-eyed. Yes, Keris doesn’t doubt she’s heard stories about the Unquestionable living here. Probably positive ones, since Keris’s household staff have known of her favoured status with Lilunu for some time, but awe-inspiring and a little intimidating nonetheless.

“Well, I mentioned to her about the plague-spores in that fruit Yelm found - he found it inside the Conventicle, right?” Keris checks. “Right, so I told her about it, and she was _not happy_. Not upset with you or your brothers,” she hastens to add, “she was sympathetic there, but whoever brought something like that into her city is in for a bad time when she catches up with them. Like, Emissary bad, unless they’re another Unquestionable. Maybe even then. So would you like to come to visit her with me and tell her what you can about where he found it?” She winks. “She loves the arts, so you may get to see some of her dancers while you’re there.”

“A real bag?” Piu breathes. “Like, one of the Demon Council? Wants to see me?”

“She does,” Keris agrees. “She’s not like most Bags, though. Well...” Honesty wars with loyalty for a moment. “Okay, I mean, she kind of is. She doesn’t really _get_ poor people. Or how Creation is for mortals. She made a pretend farmhouse once and, uh, made it out of solid emerald. I don’t think it occurred to her that humans wouldn’t do that. Or even that they couldn’t do that. But she tries, which is way better than most Bags do. She’s like, uh... yeah, you know the kind of Bag who’d sometimes flick a street rat a whole dinar without understanding that there’s no place they could spend the whole thing or break it into coins that are useful, or that it’d get everyone on the street after them for it? But they were still trying to be nice and make the kid’s life better? Lilunu’s like that.”

Piu scratches her head. “Did you do that back in Nexus, lady? Nah, I don’t think you did.” She grins at Keris, sadly. “You threw us food. And small coins. Having too much money ain’t good for you. Better a smart and nice bag like you than one who’s just nice. Sure, I’ll meet the lady. And, uh, make sure to nudge me so I don’t get her mad and get my arm broke by her thugs or summin’.”

Someday, Keris thinks, she’ll have to tell Piu what she really was in Nexus. For now, she smiles. “Well, first step on that road is getting you all dressed up pretty. Come on, I took in a few dresses for you between healing sessions. I’ll send a message over so she’s expecting us, we can get you fed and washed and looking good, then you can practice some walking on the way over.”

Piu sets her jaw. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll... I’ll tell her about everything I know about... about why they died!”

It’s nice, Keris thinks. This time of year, there’s hardly any green sun princes around. It’s so easy to get time with Lilunu.

“I wonder,” Calesco says softly, “is she lonely? It is... quiet in here with no one else around. I can do things without Eko running in to ‘cheer me up’, and I don’t have Zanara dropping by wanting to paint something with me or show me art. And there’s no Haneyl bringing food around.”

“I wish there was a way I could speak to her in Creation,” Keris thinks. “I mean, I could Invoke her, now. But that might be dangerous. Fuck knows what the All-Makers would do with her body for ten days while she crossed the Desert.” She frowns. “And yeah, I really need to track down Eko after this and drag her back in. Fuck knows where she’s gotten to. Or what she’s doing.”

“Either something she thinks will help you, or something she thinks is fun, or something she thinks will allow her to evolve her keruby,” Calesco says morosely. “She got angry at me a bit ago because she says the masks mine are growing are a sign they’re growing up and she’s not going to forgive me if mine evolve first.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Keris sighs. “Did it blow over quickly, at least? And did she tell you why we think hers aren’t maturing?”

“Mmm hmm.” Calesco sighs. “She’s such a big child sometimes.”

That chat - and reassuring a nervous Piu - take up Keris’s time as she makes her way to Lilunu’s towering central spire. Hulking brass automata-guards let her pass, raising their light-bladed spears, and they step on a crystal platform that slides up to the top of the central dome.

Lilunu herself is in her workshop, along with a beaming, paint-flecked Zana. “Look, Keris!” she squeals in joy. “We’re working on making new kinds of paint! Look, look, look!”

“Oh? Let’s see?” Keris flashes Lilunu a smile and keeps hold of Piu’s hand as she lets Zanara tug her over to the bubbling decanters and rows of palettes, covered in every colour of mortal devising and many more besides.

Lilunu looks happy here - maybe as happy as Keris has ever seen her. Her hair is tied up and back, she’s dressed in a simple white smock, and her hands are stained up to the elbow. 

“Keris,” she says warmly, a note of delight in her voice. “I do hope I’m not stealing your soul, but Zanara is adorable...”

“And brilliant and witty and clever and everything like that,” Zana says quickly, flicking her hair.

“Yes, indeed.” Lilunu gives her a one-armed hug and Zana shivers in delight. “It’s so wonderful to have a student. Better still to have two, with you and Zanara.”

“It’s a pleasure seeing you with her,” Keris returns easily. “Has she been behaving? And excelling? Any new breakthroughs or projects?”

“No, not really,” Lilunu says easily. “I’ve just been making up paint, and so I’ve had to teach her...”

“She’s been teaching me all kinds of recipes and how to treat the ingredients and it’s so _pretty_ because the best paints are works of art in their own right and I need to teach Rathan some of these things because he likes knowing how things mix and if he knows he can make paint and I wonder if Oula likes paint because it’s like she’s painting things with mercury and-” Zana gasps for breath.

Lilunu smiles fondly. “Breathe, Zanara, breathe.”

Keris smiles too. “Well, speaking of students, I thought I’d introduce you to another of mine. This is Piu.” She steps aside, letting Lilunu get a proper look at the girl. “I think I told you about the fungus-plague? Piu made it through the infection, with a lot of help from me and some fleshsculpting. But her brothers didn’t, and she wants to help you find whoever’s responsible. So how about she gives you the details on that while Zanara runs those recipes past me? We can work on alchemy when we’re back in Creation,” she tells Zanara, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “That’ll help get you some really special paints and inks, I figure.”

Piu looks noticeably distressed at the thought of talking to a member of the Demon Council alone, so Keris gives her a kiss too. “I’ll be listening,” she promises quietly. “And I’ll squeeze your hand if you start to say anything you shouldn’t. But you’ll be fine, I promise. She’s in a really good mood.”

Of course, things aren’t that simple. Piu goes to pieces in the face of the eyes-changing demon princess staring at her with her full attention, and Lilunu’s attempts to be kind only make her more nervous.

Keris winds up having to coach her and metaphorically - and literally - hold her hand.

((And now to head off Zana getting jealous.))  
((Fortunately, that’s not hard once Piu is finished explaining.))

Keris is there, a reassuring presence - and because Keris is there and paying her attention, Piu has the courage to actually talk to a demon princess.

“Well, uh, it all st-started when... well, we were looking for fruit,” she begins.

Lilunu listens, lips thin. In the end, she looks directly at Keris. “I will need to see this for myself,” she says. “Those gardens are mine - but they’re only growing fruit to serve at feasts and the like. I might be a little annoyed if someone else’s people had been stealing from them - but not you, Keris - but that’s a minor matter compared to the fact that someone might have infected my dessert fruit with some terrible plague. Goodness knows who they thought I’d be serving it to.”

Keris’s lips thin too, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. “If you need me to deliver a warning to anyone...” she offers, one blade of Ascending Air flashing into being around her hand for a second. “Or track them down and drag them back here. You know I’m good at both.”

Lilunu flinches. “I’ll... I’ll need to raise it in to the ears of the other Unquestionable,” she says rapidly. Almost a little too rapidly.

Keris nods, sensing she’s pushed far enough, and turns to Zana to change the subject. “Well,” she smiles. “Piu likes to dance, and she was hoping to see some really beautiful new ones while she was here. Zanara? I _know_ you have some routines you can show off for us, if the paints don’t need any attention for a while.”

Zana puffs out her chest. “Of course I can,” she says, crossing her arms. She shoots a look at Piu. “Watch me and learn,” she says. “And also watch me Lilunu! If you have any ways for me to get better, tell me tell me tell me! I want to be the best dancer ever!”

Keris settles down to watch as Zanara starts in on a swaying routine she vaguely recognises as one of the thousand dances of the gilmyne. Fuck alone knows where she picked that up, but her arms and hair ripple and flicker like flames as she swings and paces around the floor, singing softly at first to provide the musical backing of the piece, and rising in speed and intensity as the dance nears its conclusion. The temperature in the room seems to rise as the symbolic conflagration grows, and Keris feels her heart pound in her ears, her blood warm in her veins - even a pulse of heat below her navel. By the end of it, Zanara is spinning with fierce passion, her hair billowing towards the ceiling like great clouds of smoke, her arms lashing out in plumes of flame, her feet a drumbeat on the ground demanding more fuel, more air, more things to burn.

And then with a whirl and a crash, the ocean wave that ends the dance arrives, her hair and arms coming up and curling in like breaking foam as she folds over, doused and dampened, and draws back into a huddled crouch as the tide recedes.

((lol, 12 successes Zanara))

Keris is... impressed. Oh, she thinks she could match that - but she’d have to be on form. And likewise, Lilunu, demonic patron of artists, is applauding with genuine amusement. How many demon lords have danced for her? How many demon princes?

Piu...

Piu by all indications has just had her _mind blown_. Especially since her and Zana look about the same age at the moment. Her mouth is open. She’s not even breathing except in shallow little gasps.

“I think you impressed her,” Keris tells Zanara in a fondly amused stage whisper. “You certainly impressed _me_. Where did you get your hands on a gilmyne dance?”

Breathing deeply, Zana stands there with her palms on her thighs. She’s winded for the moment. “I went and found some of them,” she wheezes. “And he-I talked them into teaching him-us them, then I-we came out and learned it from them.” She gives a cheeky grin. “They didn’t think someone not made of fire could do it. They weren’t laughing after I showed them all.”

Keris snickers. “I bet they weren’t. They must have been gaping, if you did it that well. Say, Piu? Do you think you’d like to learn from Zanara, if she’s willing to teach you?”

“O-o-of course!” Piu stammers, still wide-eyed. Zana preens. “How did... it was like she was a fire only... it...”

“Zana is one of my children,” Keris says proudly. “And kind of Lilunu’s, in a way.” She sees Lilunu beam at that. “So she has power in art-things, a lot like Lilunu does. And she can dance better than any mortal - and, honestly, better than most demons. Though... hmm.” She considers Piu. “I bet we could give you some power that helped your dancing, at some point. Not something that let you off learning and practicing, but perhaps something that raised the limits on how good you could get.” She purses her lips. “Zanara? Any ideas? Maybe the Wave-and-Fire rite?”

Zana sags down, hugging her knees. “I dunno,” she says. “It’s not very pretty, you know. Maybe if she found someone she really liked, but I don’t like that spell much. It’s...” she waves her hands around, looking for words. “Not elegant,” she settles on. “It’s... it...” She’s lost for words, trying to explain something she’s clearly never really thought about much. “I think if someone wants to become something else than what they are, they should just do it, not be mixed in with a normal demon,” she decides.

Keris pouts, but concedes the point, gesturing for Piu to sit down. “What, then? I mean, this is assuming you want to,” she adds to Piu. “But if I opened your chakras you’d be able to learn little magics, and that would be a step up all on its own.” She tilts her head. “Maybe a tattoo? Lilunu did a beautiful painting for me that has magic in it. Though we couldn’t figure out what how its power expressed itself. Still haven’t, actually. I should give that another look; I might have learned something that makes it clearer now.”

“I feel the first and most important step is learning to dance as best she can,” Lilunu says. “Without that, any magic would be,” she mimes something blowing away, “dust on the wind. One she has honed her flesh into a sculpture for dance - then one could paint it. But before that,” she shakes her head. “No. You will just chip away any paint you apply.”

Zana nods. “Makes sense,” she says. “It’s like trying to do things the way he-we do things when I’m me-us. Things just don’t work always. We don’t think the same way and our bodies are different.”

“Now, on the other hand,” Lilunu says, a quiet smile on her lips. “One of the things we have been doing - that Zanara has been helping me with, actually, is...”

“Can I tell her! Now? Finally!”

“Go on,” Lilunu says indulgently.

“She can’t make life but she can make life from me and I’m sort of her so she can put some of her into things I make and I’ve been making her ink so she thinks she can make an adoptive-thingie that lives in your skin made of ink _I_ made!” Zana explains in one rush.

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and then Keris’s eyes widen. “Wait. Wait, you... you can help Lilunu create _life?_ You’ve bypassed her constraints?” she asks. Grinning widely - wider than humans should really be able to - Zanara nods, and Keris whoops, hugging her. “You’re brilliant! Oh, I am _so_ proud of you, you cunning little thing. That’s amazing!” Step one to freeing her mentor properly, she thinks, even if she’s not going to say as much where Lilunu can hear her.

“You... you want to give me a living tattoo?” she confirms, turning to Lilunu and blushing. “I’d be honoured. Truly. What would it be?”

“Keris,” Lilunu says firmly, “I wouldn’t apply such a thing to you as a surprise. What if you didn’t like it? The only way to remove it would be to kill the creature and - and I _can’t_ do that! Not to something like this!” She seems genuinely distraught at the idea.

“I want a ten-headed snake with legs,” Zana says.

“As I said, Zanara, giving a snake legs misses the point,” Lilunu chides her.

“Don’t care!”

“A dragon,” Keris says firmly. “A- heh. A sorceress dragon. A familiar I can call out of my skin to Anchor spells in.”

Lilunu pauses. “You... you think I could make a healthy dragon?” It’s a soft question.

“With Zanara’s help? I think it’s worth a try,” Keris says. “And if you succeed... well, that’s step one to helping your souls, isn’t it? Ten heads might be a bit ambitious, but if you use that pretty style in black with stylised shapes that come together to form a whole... maybe a hundred pieces total? Ten tens.”

“The idea I had is that it’d be coiling around your arm to end on the palm,” Lilunu explains, pulling out inks and paper as she starts to sketch out Keris with incredible speed. Her mentor clearly had a good memory for such things - but then again, she probably knows a lot about Keris’s body from who she is and the making of the painting.

It’s not too long before they settle on a design and Keris sees the ink - tasting of Zanara and Lilunu, radiating power, never staying one colour for any period of time.

“Are you ready?” Lilunu asks her, reaching for a set of crystalline hair-thin needles.

((You know more about what the process is like than me, so you’d probably be better off covering the process.))

Keris nods mutely, hearing Zanara explaining the process to a bewildered and slightly overwhelmed Piu from a vantage point to her other side. She drapes her left arm over the back of the patient's chair that will keep it still and positioned right, and Lilunu begins.

It hurts, of course. The needles pierce Keris’s steel-hard skin with ease, each prick akin to an insect bite or papercut. But they blur and multiply each time they go in, one needle producing a haze of dozens of mimicry-points around itself - almost like Keris’s afterimages when she calls on Eko or Vali. Which means each prick is two or three dozen, and Lilunu wields them with inhuman speed and precision, piercing Keris’s skin two or three times a second as she outlines abstract shapes that individually look nothing like a dragon but come together to form a head, a neck, a body. Wings. Limbs. A tail. A sorcerous flame, cradled in the tiny being’s hand.

Then she goes back, and begins to fill them in. The colour of the ink changes as it seeps under Keris’s skin, and strange sensations begin to build in her arm. One moment the outlines of the wings are a fiery green to the reflective silver of the body, and Keris’s whole arm feels like an oven’s heat is radiating out from within. Then green becomes blue and indigos, seeping down into the legs and tail and making Keris check whether her arm has been stuck into an ice bath. But even as she does the crown of the dragon’s head bleeds red and white, and there’s the soft feeling of silken lips against her fingertips as pain erupts from thousands of cuts and slashes that aren’t there, all the way up to her shoulder...

It’s not a comfortable process. And even with Lilunu’s skill and speed, it takes more than an hour to finish. By the end, the body of the dragon has faded to a plain black - not even the light-drowning shadows of the Ebon Dragon, just the plain black of ordinary ink. The flame, though... _that_ burns with all the colours of Lilunu’s eyes, matching them with every shift in perfect time, and in the hollow between the inked scales of its head that forms an eye, Keris swears she can see an echo of those same colours despite there being nothing there but skin.

“Hold still,” Lilunu says, brow furrowed. “And bite your hair. Zanara, take the human child and stand back. I’m sorry, Keris, but this is going to hurt. That was just laying in the framework. And please, don’t fight me.”

She takes Keris’s aching arm, and gently lifts the palm to her mouth.

Keris feels time slow to a crawl, dragging each moment out. Oh no no no she can feel something terrible is going to happen and oh no there’s a light in Lilunu’s eyes but no it’s not Adorjan’s light it’s all of them allthelightismixingtogetherand...

((Her Adorjan surprise negator is trying to activate, telling her something hazardous is about to happen.))

Biting down on her hair, Keris suppresses her instinct to rip her arm free and slash at the threa- no, Keris suppresses her... Keris _suppresses her instinct_ , forcing down the scared, panicky hissing in the back of her mind and _willing_ herself to be still...

Lilunu kisses her on the palm, right on the mouth of the dragon.

Something _surges_ into Keris’s arm. White hot pain spikes like nails forced into every single tiny prick from the needles. Without any willingness, Keris’s hand twists back on itself, and the pain only increases as her wrist and then her forearm snap. Her arm splits down the middle, becoming a ravening maw, only to close itself up in scars of red ice that ooze mercury. The mercury flows out and turns black, running up and down her shoulder, before suddenly twisting into a sprawled array of tentacles that wrap around Keris’s neck and start choking her. But then they’re shrinking back down and turning into brassy nodules that burst into green flame, burning away her dress and scorching her skin that falls away in ribbons and-

“Keris!” Lilunu’s voice cuts through the pain the pain the pain. “You have to control it! Your body is your temple! Force it into shape! And don’t let go!”

((Endurance + Occult + Temple as Body Style for the final Trivial Strategic action to complete this working. Diff 6. Don’t fuck it up. :p))  
((3+5+3 Temple As Body+1 bonus {creating essence-channeling body art}+2 stunt+4 Malfeas ExSux {resilient, strong}=12. 7+4=11 sux.))

Keris screams. It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts _it hurts_. She can feel the power of the All-Makers surging into her body and for a moment she can’t think, can’t _imagine_ how Lilunu lives with it if this is what it feels like...

... but Keris has taken that same power into her own body before, and she didn’t break then, because she didn’t try to take it all at once. She slams her eyes shut and forces her body to start separating the warring essences, segmenting them off from one another, pairing up their natures and sending the overflow of power into the far reaches of her souls’ lands where it can stabilise. With each channel she digs in the stuff of her spirit - red and white wind _here_ , ice and mercury _there_ , hunger and fire _this_ way and choking shadows _that_ one - the torrent gets easier, and her mind becomes more her own.

And then, quite suddenly, it stops. Her arm is her own again. She can breathe.

It’s still broken, and should be hurting, but she thinks she’s burned out her capacity to feel pain for the moment. She barely feels it.

((3L, Crippling break in left arm.))

Lilunu smiles at her sadly. “Such talent,” she says. “Now you understand why I had to do it. Zanara made me the ink for the vessel, but I had to put something of myself into it. And... can you forgive me?”

Keris sags against her, panting to catch her breath. “Guh,” she manages at first, cradling her arm and whimpering. “Agh. Khhk.” She coughs. “That... that hurt more than I expected. An’, and...”

She looks down at her arm, and can’t stop her breath escaping in a coo of joy. The eyes of [the dragon](https://i.imgur.com/gghWlv9.jpg) on her palm sparkle with the same ever-changing nature as Lilunu’s. It coils and moves under her skin - raising its head off her palm as a two-dimensional thing of ink and flesh in the realm world - before dipping back down into her body. She feels its movement as a tingle.

She stretches out, admiring herself in one of the mirrors. The green circle burns on her brow and she doesn’t even remember doing that. Her clothes have burned off - but she’s not annoyed. It means she can watch as the new ink dragon explores its new home, crawling over her from the soles of her feet, up around her legs and torso, and even onto her face to coil out of her body to look her in the eye. It's almost half a metre from nose to tailtip when stretched out straight - half of which is tail - and has a similar wingspan when it spreads them both out as far as they'll go. Nonetheless, it can curl up fairly small when it wants to; furling its wings and tucking in its tail to disappear under Keris's scalp. Its favourite position by far, though, seems to be the one it was born in; coiled around Keris's left forearm with its head in her palm, its flame cradled in the hollow of her wrist and its tail running up past her elbow.

“It worked,” Lilunu says, sagging down as if she was only held upright by nervous tension. “It actually worked.” She swallows. “And... I’m feeling wonderful, thank you Keris. I bled out that knot in my chakras.” She pauses. “Have you thought of a name?”

“She’s _beautiful_ ,” Keris sings giddily. “Of course I forgive you. Oh, look at her! Zanara, Piu, come see!” She lets the little dragon nuzzle interestedly at her finger - the digit as long as its whole head - as it lifts its head up from her neck again. The flame it carries in one of its talons still burns the same colours as its eyes, and stays held carefully to its chest as it peers around. “I was thinking... well, I dunno. Perhaps you should name her? Since, well...”

“I... I’ll think of that, if you’d honor me with that,” Lilunu says slowly.

Zanara is watching with wide eyes - and no small amount of smugness. Piu isn’t. Her hands are over her eyes.

“Is it over?” she whispers.

But before Keris can reassure her and explain that while Keris’s arm might have just turned into a monster and... well, other not good things, an orb of brownish fire appears in front of Keris.

((... oh no.))  
((EKO))  
((DON’T YOU HAVE DARED))

Perhaps Keris’s head is still supercharged from the torrent of essence that poured through her. Maybe her joy and glee at her new familiar is leaving her in an unusually quick and brilliant state of mind. It could just be that she’s been half-expecting something ever since she found out Eko was gone. Regardless of the reason, she puts two and two together and immediately comes up with her fifth soul.

“Oh hells,” she mutters with a mortified inner groan. “She found Asarin.” A gesture at the sphere with her unbroken hand arm bids it speak; Keris cringing in anticipation of what chaos Eko might have wrought on her friend.

“Oh, Keris!” It’s Asarin’s usual fairly haughty tone, but at least she sounds happy. “Thank you so much for sending your aide to help me. She’s been a real help. When you finish with the things you’re busy with, you’ll need to come around. We have so much to catch up on - and she mentions that you’re now able to summon me properly? Wonderful news! But just send me a message with a few day’s notice if you want to come around and I can organise a proper gala for you!”

There is a silence as the brown orb vanishes.

“Oh, so that was what she was up to,” Zana says out loud without thinking.

“Oh. That was what she was up to,” Calesco says at the same time in her head.

Keris just makes a strangled noise of mortified fury, and starts to beat her head against her remaining hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Keris is more than a little irked. More than a _bit_. 

Oh, and she’s also burned, wearing only singed tatters, and her arm is broken. But all of those things she’s felt before, unlike her fear-worry-anger for Eko. She starts to force her heart into overdrive, before hesitating. “Piu?” she says gently, and kneels awkwardly. “Piu, it’s okay. It’s over. Look, I’m normal again.”

She’s not actually entirely sure that’s true - her arm feels _weird_ , beneath the distant pain of a broken wrist, radius and ulna. But it’s arm-shaped again, which is probably enough for Piu. “That wasn’t... that just happened because I took on a bit too much power at once,” she explains. “Well, a lot too much. You don’t need to be scared; I got it all under control, see?”

Piu peeks out. She’s crying, terrified, and Keris sees Zanara roll her eyes.

“Come here,” Keris says, holding out her good arm. “It’s been a long day for you already, and you need some rest. We’ll get you home, and you can have another meal and some more sleep while I go track down my wayward daughter. Lilunu?” She looks over at her mentor. “Can I ask you to look after Zanara until I’m back? And, uh... also if you know where Asarin is at the moment?”

Zanara gets a narrowed-eyed look. “And we _will_ be talking about not warning me that Eko was loose, young lady,” Keris adds in ominous tones. “Gods alone know what kind of trouble she’s got up to in the time she’s been out.”

Zana rolls her eyes again. “I didn’t lie to you,” she points out. “I told you she was trying to get out, and you never asked if she succeeded.”

Keris looks deeply unimpressed. “You’re trying to get past _me_ with technicalities and lying-with-the-truth? _Me?_ ” She points. “A _long_ talk. Once I get back from corralling her. Piu, honey, come on. Let’s get going. Lilunu... thank you again, so much. I’ll be back as soon as I stop Eko from wrecking anything.”

“Yes, of course, Keris,” Lilunu says. “I’ll have replacement clothes sent around - I owe you that much. And are you sure you don’t need me to look at that arm?”

“I can heal it with the City’s gifts,” Keris soothes. “I’ll just wait until after I’ve got Piu home, since she’s distressed enough as it is.” She grins. “Think on a name for my new familiar, though! I hope to hear one when I get back!”

Lilunu raises a finger. “Keris,” she says firmly. “I am going to look at that arm.”

“No, there’s really no need to-”

“Keris.” Lilunu crosses her arms. “I am the Speaker of the Yozis. I am _ordering_ you to let me look at that arm.” She takes a deep breath. “I know what my nature does. I want to make sure you don’t explode the moment you take a step out of the door.”

Keris is very, very thankful that Lilunu says this in Old Realm and Piu doesn’t speak it well enough to grasp her very formal and proper mode of speech. She does relent, though, because the mental images aren’t pleasant.

Lilunu shows some knowledge of medical procedures as she carefully tests Keris’s arm, locating the breaks. “Mmm,” she says, fetching a selection of vitriol-hardened brass needles. “I think I’m going to limit your chakra flows until it settles down. Hold still.”

Keris isn’t really listening, though, because she can feel Lilunu’s long-handed fingers on her arm. Her touch barely resembles skin on skin. There’s stone and tarry ooze and freshly cut plants and stinging ice and a hundred other things, all touching Keris at once. She’s glad she isn’t drawing on her po, because the feeling would be overwhelming.

Then the first needle goes in, numbing her sense of touch in the arm, and Lilunu recoils. “Ouch!” she says, staring down at the dragon clamped onto her finger. “That hurt!”

The dragon stares up at her, its eye the same every-colour as her own.

“I’m not attacking her,” Lilunu explains. “I’m just helping stabilise her chakra flows.”

The tattoo-dragon shakes its head.

“No, she does need it.”

Another shake of its head. An insistent jab of its two-dimensional claw at itself.

“Oh.” Lilunu frowns, tracing her finger along Keris’s forearm. “I see. Yes, your scales do extend into Keris’s flesh, below the skin. I am sorry, little one, if I hurt you. Could you move out the way?”

The dragon slithers back onto Keris’s arm. It isn’t going anywhere.

Lilunu sighs. “Very well. Keris, if you feel at all unstable or experience essence surges or internal bleeding, come and see me immediately and we’ll try to do what we can without me getting bitten. I’d also advise you on aftercare for your tattoo, but your body doesn’t really need it. Just make sure that you don’t take any injuries to this arm while it’s still settling in, because fresh cuts might hurt this little beautiful creature.” She strokes that tattoo’s head in a placating gesture, and it coils around her finger, rubbing the side of its head against her nails.

“Is that all?” Keris asks.

“Of course, Keris.” Lilunu gives Zana a hug; Zana smirks at Keris. “And I’ll take good care of Zanara. Come on, let’s get back to making paint.”

“Oooh, ooh, I-he wants a tattoo!” Zana contributes. “I-me can go get changed and you can give me-him one!”

Keris waves goodbye as they return to their artwork, and spends a minute or two longer coaxing Piu out of her huddled ball and into a palanquin home. She probes at her arm as she reclines back in the cushions, hissing under her breath. The pain is starting to rear back up from where it had retreated in shock and disbelief into the back of her mind. They seem like fairly clean breaks, though, so that’s something.

“Just in case you were worrying - _ow_ ,” she notes, “if I ever give you a magical tattoo to help with your dancing, that will _not_ happen. My arm went berserk because Lilunu and Zanara and I made a powerful magical creation in...” she totals up the time spent on outlining and filling and a rough guess at what making the ink probably took, “... four hours, maybe? Three? For something that should have taken weeks or months to do safely. If we’d spaced that out and done it slowly and properly, it wouldn’t have backlashed like that, I don’t think.”

It might have, honestly - perhaps even _probably_ would have. Lilunu’s nature is one sadly attuned to violent outbursts of uncontrolled essence. But Piu doesn’t need to know that, and if she gets a tattoo of her own it won’t be one brought to life by the Speaker of the Yozis, so Keris tells the white lie without much guilt.

“Please don’t die,” Piu whispers, voice taut.

Keris leans over. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

Piu looks.

“I’ve fought cannibal giants of the Wyld and Greater Dead monsters and demon behemoths without a scratch,” Keris tells her firmly. “I’m not going to die. My arm flaring like that hurt, yeah, but I’m barely even slowed down. And I can be healed in five minutes once I get a moment to myself. I promise, Piu, I’m not going to leave you alone.” She holds her hand out, index and middle fingers extended and the others folded back, to link them with Piu’s own in the grip that the street rats and squatters of Firewander used to make unbreakable promises when she was living there. “I swear, okay?”

Piu’s head bobs back and forth. “‘Kay.”

That seems to satisfy the little girl, and Keris drops her off at home and takes a few moments to herself in a spare room. Focusing hard, she calls on Vali’s healing factor, and watches in the mirror as her heart goes into overdrive and blue-black light shines from her veins. Her scars - save the ones from Adorjan - ache and flex, her skin takes on a brassy sheen like her second son’s, and her breath comes quick and fast. With three sickening _cracks_ , she feels the bones of her arm align and fuse back together with brass; basalt threading through the flesh around them that her unnamed dragon noses at in curiosity.

Her heart slows. Her blood stops glowing. The brassy sheen to her skin and the basalt veins running up her arm remain. Keris makes an experimental fist, rotates her forearm this way and that, and slams it into the wall.

Healed. Good. Now to find Eko.

The little dragon on her arm coils around the new scars, tickling them. It rears up off her arm, to get a better look at them, then looks up at her, head tilted.

There’s a knock at her door. “Oh, you’re back, Aunty,” Oula says, coming in without actually waiting. “And-” She pauses. “What is that beautiful little thing on your arm?” she asks softly.

She reaches out and takes Keris’s arm with her smooth, shell-like skin. Her touch is chill and flowing. Keris feels tides under her skin, and the cool feeling of unseen metal clinging to wherever Oula brushes against. The dragon flows around Oula’s questing fingertips, sniffing at them and flicking out a forked tongue.

Keris shivers. That... that was strange. Maybe one of those side-effects that Lilunu was talking about; her sense of touch getting screwed up by how it had gone berserk. It’s itching, too - a mild but insistent prickling around the edges of the tattooed scales that she hadn’t been able to feel beneath the pain of the break.

“A new tattoo,” she says proudly, putting it out of her mind. “A living one, from Lilunu. Actually...” she thinks for a moment and nods. Rathan and Oula have spent the majority of their time here in various bedrooms, and she wants to have a talk with them about... well, a few things, among them making sure she doesn’t become a grandmother too early. “If you go over to her art-cathedral, you might be able to talk to her about it, maybe even help her come up with a name. And she’d probably appreciate more time with your mercury-sculpting. I’ll be taking Rathan and Vali off to find Eko, anyway, since,” she sighs, “she’s escaped my inner world and gone off to bother Asarin.”

Oula’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?” she asks hesitantly. “I mean, Lady Lilunu is nice, but she’s a bit like you when you get scary. Only _all the time_.”

Keris grins. “I’m not going to argue with that. But Zanara’s already there, she’s been doing art all day, and I just bled off a huge chunk of her stress when this one awoke. So she’s in a really good mood at the moment. You’ll be fine.”

Oula rubs the back of her neck. “I don’t think Zanara likes me much,” she says weakly.

“Then think of this as a chance to bond,” Keris says firmly. “Oh, and Oula?”

“Yes, Auntie?”

“When I get back from corralling Eko, we’re going to be having a talk. About what you’ve been getting up to with Rathan, and grandchildren, and how to avoid giving me any before I turn twenty five. Okay?”

“Um.” Oula shifts in place. “But wouldn’t a little baby with his eyes and my...” She sees Keris isn’t mucking around, and hangs her head. “Yes, Aunty.”

“Good girl. Now where is Rathan?”

“He’s in the baths, aunty. I was just coming through to see if you had any... well, never mind.” Her cheeks are pink.

Keris raises an eyebrow, but decides to delay that question as one she might not want the answer to. “Off you go, then. I’ll go drag Rathan out. And find Vali. And Rounen too, come to think of it.” Her lips twitch in a brief smile. “Looks like this will be a boy’s trip.”

Rounen’s name summons him, and he appears in a flurry of petals. “Ma’am,” he says. He glances at Oula. “Oula.”

“Rounen Secondborn,” she says sweetly, with only a hint of cattiness.

((Oooooo~))

“Eko escaped,” Keris says, interrupting the flash of not-entirely-metaphorical fire in Rounen’s eyes as the two enter a staredown. “We’re going to drag her back from wherever she’s making trouble. Can you find Vali and the twins while I get Rathan out of the baths?”

“Of course, ma’am. Promptly and efficiently.” He pulls out a notepad and notes it down. “Any other things need arranged? Food supplies, mounts, and so on? Will there be anyone else you plan to bring?”

“She’s gone off to bother Asarin - Lilunu will be sending a runner over to tell us where she is at the moment, though it’ll almost certainly be her empire. I’ll be offloading that art from Eshtock onto her, but she has the materials to haul them up from wherever I move them out, so we’ll just need steeds and supplies. You, Rathan, Vali and I are going, along with the twins.” Rounen writes as Keris speaks; beautiful calligraphy pouring onto the page as he jots down not only her commands but also an outline of what needs to be done and who to have do it at inhuman speed. “Oh, pack some of the twins’ toys as well; it’ll be a fairly long trip and they might get fussy. Bring Kerisa’s bones too. I’m not letting her out of my sight while we’re here.”

Rounen nods. “As you wish. I’ll have it all done, ma’am.” With a bow to Keris and a faint sneer at Oula, he is off.

“He’s such an asshole,” Oula says as soon as he’s out the door.

“He’s very helpful, just like you are,” Keris scolds her lightly. “Honestly, can’t you two get along? You weren’t at each other’s throats so much when you were children.”

“That was because he didn’t have one of Princess Haneyl’s beloved branches so far up his butt it’s poking his tonsils,” Oula mutters. Rolling her eyes, Keris leaves her to her grumbling and goes to chivvy Rathan out of the baths.

He doesn’t exactly take it well, especially considering his obvious plans for the day - or the traces of mercury smeared on his chest and upper thighs. But she leaves him to get dressed, and finds Vali napping, with Kali and Ogin using him as a pillow.

She pauses there for a while, heart melting at the sight of her son with a little ball of white fluff and a tiger cub asleep on him.

In fact, she watches until Ogin rouses, perhaps sensing her presence, and blinks sleepy silver eyes at her before reaching out silently. Charmed, Keris quietly goes to him and picks him up in her right arm.

“Hello moonbeam,” she whispers, kissing him playfully on the nose. “Did big brother Vali tire you and your sister out?”

Ogin considers her words thoughtfully, and nods. 

His attention is then drawn by her left forearm, and the moving ink dragon underneath. With chubby hands, he reaches out for the moving thing - and the dragon seems to realise that, poking her head out to stare at his grasping hands.

When her son clumsily fumbles against her arm, he’s cool to the touch, and slightly damp. Keris groans at that - has he wet himself again? His skin is soft and smooth, but there’s the feeling that there’s something she really doesn’t want to touch being hidden by it. It makes her skin crawl. It’s still prickling, too. In fact, what started as a mild sensation around the edges of the ink has spread to a full-skin sensation that covers her left arm up to the shoulder. It’s all Keris can do not to scratch or rub at it - it’s strong enough to be distracting, and getting stronger.

She does her best to ignore it, along with the weird sensations from Ogin, and focus on her son. “Yes, mama has a new friend, see?” Keris chuckles as he tries to grab at the dragon’s head and it ducks back under her skin, leaving his tiny fingers to close on nothing but a pinch of Keris’s flesh. “It’s a tattoo, darling. Like a picture just under my skin. Isn’t it pretty?”

He tries to grab its tail, and the quiet clap as he fails again seems to do the job of rousing Kali - and from there, Vali, as she digs her paws into his chest and stretches. Two little tails wave back and forth sleepily, dragging across her son’s face on each pass. Predictably, Vali sneezes, a small thunderclap that gets Kali jumping a half-metre in the air and skittering in mad circles as she looks for the source of the noise.

“Morning mum,” Vali says, yawning. “If it is morning. I don’t like the light here.” He glances over at Kali. “What’re you doing, hmm? Did you see a mouse?”

“She heard a sneeze,” Keris chuckles, scooping Kali up with her hair and nuzzling her fur. “So, it turns out Eko got loose when you did, and she’s off bothering Asarin. I’m going to make sure she hasn’t caused too much damage and deliver that art from Eshtock. Want to come?”

“Yeah.” He grins, pulling himself up to his feet as he rummages through his pockets to see if there’s something to eat. “Should be fun. I wanna see the _real_ Hell, not just this place. And of course I’ll be here to protect you from any bad people who might try to hurt you while you’re travelling.”

“You’ll also get to look at my new gift from Lilunu,” Keris winks, flashing her forearm at him. Ogin is still attached to it; his tails looped around her elbow as he determinedly bends close over the limb and methodically tries to catch the moving black shape under the surface. Upon seeing it, Kali immediately tries to pounce on the dragon, bounces off Keris’s arm, and is caught by her hair before she can hit the ground.

It was predictable, really.

Frowning, Keris rubs her arm. Kali is warm to the touch - no, hot, like a hand held too close to a fire or left in direct sunlight. Does she have a fever?

“Neat,” Vali says. “Bet Zanara was going all wobbly at the knees. But what does it do?”

“Zanara helped make it, actually. And I’m... not sure yet,” Keris admits. “But there’s a lot of power bound up in it, so I guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah! So have you told Asarin we’re coming? ‘Cause Calesco and Hanny get all grumpy when you show up when they’re in the bath,” he says innocently. “And she’d probably get angry if she was in the bath when we arrived.”

“... yeah, fair point,” Keris admits. “I was... going to get around to doing that.” She considers the dragon on her arm for a moment. “Hey. Think you can carry a message for me?” she asks it.

The little head lifts up and turns towards her for a moment, rainbow eye narrowed, before ducking back under her skin to avoid another flying tackle from Kali. This time Ogin falls off as well, and Keris’s hair has to catch both of them.

The dragon nods.

“Right. Well... then _**say this unto Asarin:**_ ” Keris says, and holds her arm out straight in front of her. “Hello, dear friend. I think it’s actually a good time to visit right now, so I’ll be along soon with my children to introduce you properly - and of course those gifts from the Shogunate city I mentioned. I hope my... aide, hasn’t caused you any trouble, and I’ll be there tomorrow a little before the second scream.”

She pauses. The power flowing down her left arm feels... _weird_ , in a way she can’t quite describe and isn’t sure how to define. The prickling is spiking and fading, with weird surges of hot and cold like her arm has a fever or something. But the living dragon tattoo is floating an inch off her skin, still coiled around her arm, its many-hued eye and flame blazing, so clearly the spell works through it.

“ _ **Go in my name and speak in my voice**_ ,” Keris intones, completing the spell and releasing its energies into her new companion. With a whistling cry, it spreads its half-metre wingspan; the black shapes that make it up each two-dimensional when seen edge-on, and flashes into sudden motion that takes it through the wall and on its way to Asarin before Keris can blink.

“Dragie! No!” Kali says, heartbroken.

Vali picks her up, lifting her up above his head. “Mum’s _super cool_ new tattoo is going on a top secret adventure,” he says firmly. “Dragons aren’t for eating.”

“Nom?”

“No. No nom.”

“Nom! Nom! Nom!”

Ogin sighs, looks up at Keris with his big eyes, and pats her on the chest. Or, rather, the breasts.

“Thank you, darling,” Keris tells him. “I appreciate it.” She kisses him on the nose again, which earns her one of his rare slow smiles. It transforms his usually serious face into something heartbreakingly adorable and startlingly pretty, and she gives him an extra cuddle for it.

“Now, let’s get ready to go! It’s a day’s travel to Asarin’s domain if we use Ligier’s lightbridges, so we’ll be on the road for a while. Take something to do so you don’t get bored.”

Rounen is very useful, and by the time she’s fed Kali and Ogin and got them dressed for travel, he’s wrangled Mehuni into procuring the required things.

There’s an elegant wagon pulled by four creatures that look like snakes with legs, as well as bird-like riding beasts. No agatae, thank goodness. 

He’s also secured everyone who’s coming with them, and made sure there’s plenty of supplies loaded.

“Assuming you haven’t added anyone else to the guest list, ma’am, there should be quarters in here for everyone. It’ll be a trifle cramped, but no worse than the barges, eh?” Rounen says brightly.

“Just so. And Kerisa? Ah, there you are.” Keris accepts the box of bones and ruffles the little ghost’s hair. It’s not a pleasant feeling - cold, _old_ and squishy like rotten flesh. Still better than the prickling, which thankfully has begun to fade. Now her arm just _aches_ , deep muscle pains setting in. Small wonder, given how badly she’s taxed it today. “We’re going to visit a friend of mine while the lady who’ll be making your new body brings her workshop here,” she tells her. “She knows a lot about the Shogunate, back when you were born.”

Kerisa adjusts her old tattered dress. Keris thinks she’s frowning. “She must be very old,” she decides.

Keris nods. “She is,” she agrees. “But don’t mention that. She might take it the wrong way.”

“Old ladies don’t like to be told they’re old,” Kerisa agrees. “Mama told me that.”

“That’s right. Smart lady, your mama,” Keris agrees. “Now, up you get... there we go.” She manoeuvres herself into the wagon as well, with the twins still attached to her in hair-slings. “Everyone got something to do while we travel? Oh, Kerisa... ah, I know. Why don’t you tell Rounen your story - your whole story, start to end - so that he can write it all down prettily? If you’re getting reborn soon, you’ll want something to remind you of who you were, won’t you?”

Kerisa looks around wildly. “Where’s Rounen?” she demands.

“Here, Kerisa,” he says.

“Where?!”

“Oh, right,” Keris remembers. “You were asleep for most of that. Yeah, um... Rounen grew up really, really fast. He looks like this now.” She gestures to her aide. “But he can prove it’s him, if you’re not sure. You two used to go out looking for your parents together, didn’t you?”

He reaches down, and tousles her hair. “You used to hate that,” he says, a faint smile on his lips.

“Your head isn’t a thing that’s on fire!” she says loudly.

“Yes, I outgrew that.”

“Does your head feel cold?”

He chuckles. “Sometimes. But that’s why I have hats. Come on, do you want a piggyback ride up? There’s seats on top of the wagon for people to look at the view - and also fire arrows from if we’re attacked, of course. It pays to think ahead, ma’am.”

“Always prepared,” Keris smiles. “Whatever would I do without you?”

Rounen sniffs. “Rely on Oula to organise things and get nothing done because she’s spending all her time in Rathan’s bed.”

“I heard that!” Rathan interjects, scowling.

“Was anything I said a lie, my prince?” Rounen says with a graceful bow.

“... mama! He’s picking on me!”

“Off you go up to the roof, Rounen,” Keris says. “And take Vali with you. Rathan and I can have a chat about Oula in private - there are some things I’ve been meaning to talk to him about.”

“Should I tell them to set off while you do this inside, or do you intend to do this before we leave?” Rounen enquires.

“Set off, by all means,” Keris says. “The sooner we get underway the better. Who knows what kind of havoc Eko is causing?”

“Very well.”

The inside of the wagon is more like a barge on wheels, with comfortable - if small - cabins and a shared galley. The snake-like creatures must be very strong to pull it. Keris finds that Rounen has even procured a cot for the twins along with a selection of toys for them, and leaves them together with a number of brightly coloured blocks and plush stuffed demon dolls. The last she sees, Kali is viciously mock-savaging a blood ape.

“Your daughter has good taste,” Dulmea observes.

Rathan himself has managed to sprawl out in the little space. He’s looking nervous, despite himself.

Keris leans forward. “So. To start with, you’re not in trouble. This isn’t a punishment or a scolding. It’s... I guess something to make sure those aren’t necessary.” She pauses, letting that sink in for a moment before continuing. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Oula lately. In, ah... in the bedroom. And baths. And... well, I don’t need to know the details; especially not as many details as I’ve picked up without really wanting to. But you’ve been... spending time together, shall we say, a lot.”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Rathan tries for defiance. “Anyway, I’m doing everything you said about making sure she’s okay with things!” He blushes. “Actually, I... uh, think she’s more okay than I am. Sometimes I just want to sit and read and then she decides she wants to sit on my lap.”

He coughs. “I mean, I don’t mind doing things with you, but it’s also nice to have a bit of time away from her sometimes.”

Wincing at the detail she really, really hadn’t needed, Keris holds her hands up pacifyingly - the left one twitching as a muscle spasms unexpectedly. “Like I said, this isn’t a scolding. I know you’re in love - and I’m going to be having this conversation with her, too. No, this is about something else.” She purses her lips, cringing in anticipation. “Rathan, you know about how you get babies, don’t you?”

“I know how humans get babies! You were way, _way_ too clear about that last time you had one of these talks!” he protests.

“Yes. Well, the thing is, you’re my son. And Oula is a kerub. That means you’re both human enough that I’m willing to bet you two can have children the same way. And, Rathan? I’m pretty sure you’ll agree with me on this, but _I do not want you to make me a grandmother until I am a lot older than I am now_.”

Rathan shivers. “No, Dragons, no,” he says softly. “I don’t want any babies at all! Not for a long, long time. Either Oula would spend all her time with them, or she wouldn’t - and that’d be even worse.” He looks Keris in the eye, then looks away. “I did talk about this with Uncle Xasan and Ney,” he says, not looking directly at his mother. “They mentioned some things men could do that. Uh. Helped stop it.”

Keris wilts in relief. “And you’ve been, ah, taking their advice?”

“The traditional Harbourite way is things made of cowgut. Plenty of things have guts. But, uh.” He blushes. “There’s a rubbery fruit that’s started growing in the Swamp recently that works even better,” he says. “Rounen mentioned them as an anomaly and I had him bring me some out of curiosity because, uh. I was running out of gut.”

“Right, right,” says Keris. “Good. I’ll talk to Oula about, um, her end of things.” She leans over to give him a hug. There’s certainly something weird going on with her left arm. To her right arm, he feels normal - but to the left, he feels just like Oula did, like slick ice and liquid mercury. Her arm jerks again, like a sudden shiver or a reflexive flinch from touching something sharp or hot. “I’m proud of you for thinking ahead and being responsible,” she says, and casts about for another topic she can change the subject to. “Now, uh... ah, what did you think of Hermione? She visited me again after our meeting with Lilunu; while I was working on healing Piu.”

Rathan straightens up from his slump, pressing his finger to his lips and looking around. He sees a mirror, and turns it around to face the wall. Then - and only then - he relaxes. “She’s... dangerous,” he says softly. “She reminds me a lot of girl-Zanara when she was little. Or Haneyl too. I think she’s vicious and holds a grudge.” He tugs his collar. “And I think she’s stalking me.”

“She can tell you have mercury in your heart,” Keris says. “She might be jealous you have a body where she doesn’t. Or she might have gone soft on you after you spoke up for her at the dinner,” she adds with a grin. “In which case... hmm. We might want to warn Oula to be wary. But I think she’s also sad, and lonely. She can’t hug anyone or touch anything, and she hates it. People shout at her or get angry when she tries to talk to them. She needs a friend. Friends, plural.”

Rathan shakes his head sadly. “It’s not fair on her,” he agrees. “But you’re going to have to be very careful with who talks to her. My siblings,” he scowls, “say I’m a cry baby who takes offence easily, but she’s like glass. She’ll break with a tap and try to cut you.”

Keris nods seriously, toying with a hair ornament; flipping it from hand to hand. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“I mean, I know I could get her to like me,” he says easily. “I just don’t know how to make her deal with other people. I know she’d be clingy and not want me talking to other girls and,” he smiles wryly, “I already have Oula for that. I do need to do something to balance her debt out with those nice girls Calesco picked up.”

“He wants something,” Calesco observes darkly from inside her head. “He’s being a decent person, so he wants something.”

“When we get back from Asarin, try and reassure them and feed them a convincing story for why we’ll be hanging around at the ‘waypoint’ for however long it takes to build Kerisa’s new body?” Keris asks. “Mehuni’s been keeping most of the demon staff away from them, and they took well to the thing about Exalts having diplomatic immunity when travelling through Hell and neutral waystations on their route through it, but I imagine by now they’ll be wondering when we can leave.”

((Oh Rathan. Keris’s defensive operator.))

Rathan inspects his nails. “Give me a week or two and I could probably have them worshiping anyone you want,” he says. “After all, anyone you’d ask me to get them to worship would do more for them than the silly silver moon.”

“Heh,” Keris chuckles. “I’m almost tempted to have you get them worshipping Hermione and kill two birds with... one...”

She trails off, blinking. “Rot and dust,” she swears softly, and adds another curse as her fingers spasm and miss the hairpin - left hand _again_ , and the muscle ache has intensified to gnaw at everything from her fingertips to her shoulderblade; that transformation must have really messed it up. The silver pin clatters across the carriage floor as she stares into space. “I’m an idiot. How did I not see that? If a cult for Asarin is valuable to her, how much more would one be for _Lilunu’s_ souls, who have no worship coming to them and never have? And... shit, prayer might not fix their issues, but it certainly wouldn’t _hurt_.” She smacks herself lightly in the forehead and scrambles for paper. “Where are my notes... argh, no, Rounen’s with Kerisa. Fine, I can think of ideas now and have him transcribe them later. So, let’s see, there should be, what, eleven of them so far...”

Keris spends some time constructively working. But of course, it’s not all that she does. And it’s late at ni- well, time when the babies are asleep and she feels tired when she hears quiet talking up on the roof. It’s Rounen and Kerisa.

“So, do you think my parents are here? It’s very strange here. The sun hasn’t gone down once. And it’s always noisy.”

“Maybe,” Rounen says softly. “Some humans do end up here.”

“It’s really big.”

“It’s too big. Where I come from, the world is small enough you can see from one side to the other. That’s a comfortable size of world. Other places are too big. You wouldn’t be able to see the whole world.”

Kerisa nods. “I spent way way too long in the mist. I’ve been having more fun with you and everyone else than I had ever back then. Even when everyone else was around.” She sniffles. “I bet they would have liked you. We always wanted more friends. There weren’t many of us. I’d just started school, you know. There were hundreds and hundreds of us. But then people got sick somewhere so they sent us home from school and shut down all the cinemas and places.”

((mou~ : ( ))

Keris sniffs quietly, not willing to disturb the pair. She can’t really grasp, she knows, just how much the Contagion destroyed. She’s heard numbers, but they don’t seem real. They certainly don’t seem as real as Kerisa; one little life she knows that was brought to an end by that Age-ending plague.

She shudders. Things like that... well, if Keris had any reason to doubt that the lords of death who would make such a thing were abominations, this would be something to set against them. Kerisa is sweet, but ghosts in general, in her experience...

... she can see why Calesco’s scared of them.

“What’s it like, changing?” It’s Kerisa.

“Hmm?”

“Being different. You’re different. You don’t act the same. But you’re still you. And Keris says that she’s found a way for me to be alive again and not have an icky face I have to cover up with a mask. But I’m going to have to change. And I don’t know if I want to. I need to find mama and daddy. I _need_ to. They promised to come back for me!”

There’s the sound of Rounen’s warm hand squeezing Kerisa’s cold, dead, skeletal one. He doesn’t flinch. “Growing up is good,” he says. “It hurt at the time, but when it was over, things are much more... calm. When I was a child, I was always running around and burning and looking for fuel. But now I’m not always hungry and-”

“I know! You haven’t eaten any rats!” Kerisa cackles.

“I cooked them!”

“You ate rats, you ate rats!”

“So did you!”

“Only because you told me it was a sausage! You’re mean! Mean!”

There’s the sound of little fists hitting someone bigger, and Rounen’s fake cries of pain. “I give up, I give up!”

“Right! Don’t make fun of me again, rat-eater boy!” There’s a long pause. “You won’t forget me?”

“Mmm?”

“When I’m... grown up. I didn’t know you at first. What if you don’t know me?”

Rounen ruffles her hair. “I’m my lady’s chief assistant,” he says. “Of course I know you. If you’re a baby again, she’ll probably make me look after you. I hope you’ll be better behaved than the twins. They’re so _messy_.”

“Ogin tried to bite me. He doesn’t have any teeth,” Kerisa announces. “He doesn’t have legs either. He’s a silly baby!”

((This is really sweet.))  
((I wanted this scene for a while. :p ))  
((Hmm. Now do I have Keris go up and interrupt, or just listen in quietly as Kerisa comes to a decision with a peer?))  
((... yeah, Choices Are Important, lol.))

Keris is tempted for a moment to go up to the roof - she could point out how Kali and Ogin will be Kerisa’s big brother and sister when she’s reborn, offer possibilities of how they might beat up anyone who’s mean to her or make time whenever she wants to play. But ultimately, she’s an authority figure to the little ghost-girl. Rounen, for all that he’s older now, is a peer. And if Kerisa is having doubts, she shouldn’t be pressured into this. It should be her choice.

She checks to make sure everyone in the carriage is asleep and not overhearing what she is. Vali is snoring lightly on the floor, having bounced out and run alongside the carriage for a while earlier to burn off some restless energy. The twins are cuddled into each other on Keris’s lap, and Rathan is reading, lying down in one of the bench-seats with his legs draped over one armrest and his hair over the other. She doesn’t think he can hear Rounen and Kerisa, though. He doesn’t even glance away from the page as they speak.

“I’m scared.” Kerisa’s voice is barely a whisper. “I’m scared it’ll hurt like dying again. You know, Keris says I’m seven hundred and something years old. That’s really old. But... nothing has hurt as much as dying.” She gives a choked sob. “Mummy helped all of us down to the shelter and she said she was going out to help get others back and she promised she’d be back and I had my little brother on my lap and he was only a baby. And then the really scary thing got in. And we were screaming and trying to run only... only we couldn’t run away. And it had really long claws and... and it grabbed my brother and its claws cut me up and everything hurt and I was lying on the floor and it ate him and all I could think about was how everything hurt and how mummy and daddy were going to shout at me when they got back because they told me to keep him safe but I couldn’t do it. I have to tell them I’m sorry. Or else they’ll never forgive me.” Kerisa wipes her mask. “And I don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want it to hurt that much again. I’ll break if it does.”

That does it. Keris rises to her feet silently, waves away a questioning look from Rathan, and slips out of the carriage window and up onto the roof.

“It won’t hurt,” she promises Kerisa, kneeling down behind the pair. “I promise I’ll make sure of that, Kerisa. You won’t feel a thing. More like going to sleep in your box, and then waking up as a baby.” She puts a reassuring hand on her little shoulder. “And it wasn’t your fault. Your parents will understand that. It was the monster’s fault, not yours. I’m a mother, and I wouldn’t blame my children for something they couldn’t have stopped like that, so your mummy and daddy won’t blame you.”

“They promised they’d come back,” Kerisa burbles into Keris’s front. Rounen is sniffling, and also looking embarrassed at being caught showing emotion.

“I know they did, sweetheart,” Keris whispers, holding her close. “I know. It’s not fair, what happened to you. It’s not fair they took so long. It’s not fair that the sun and moon stop you looking. But we’re fixing that last one, aren’t we?”

Kerisa squirms in her grip. “This place is weird. The sun doesn’t burn me. And the moon is weird. But nothing hurts in the same way”.

“Mmm,” Keris agrees. “We’re outside normal Creation here. The laws don’t work the same way. That’s why we can get you reincarnated without going through Lethe here.”

“Mmm.” Kerisa yawns. “I’m very tired,” she says, voice choked. “I’m going back down to sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Keris agrees. “How about you, Rounen? Feeling tired?”

“Do you need me, ma’am?” he asks.

“Well, if you’re up for some more writing, I had an idea earlier that could use some planning,” Keris says. “How about I stay up here and talk it out with you while Kerisa naps with the others in the carriage?”

“Very well, ma’am,” Rounen says. “Let me just get some fresh paper and we can begin.” He pauses, and waits for Kerisa to leave. “It’s very sad with her,” he says softly. “I’ve been trying to record everything I can from her, so we can know some of what she’s seen in her life, but... everything always comes back to her death.”

“Yes,” Keris says softly. “Spirits like you and Oula have limits on how you think, but those are loose. Mostly just things _not_ to do. Ghosts... ghosts lose so much more from what they were when they were human.” She summons up a smile. “Which is why we’ll make her human again, so that her story can have a happy ending. Now, I was thinking about creating some cults for Lilunu’s souls, based around the concept of ‘the Lost Dragons’...”

Rounen has some helpful contributions - and is even more helpful in refining some of Vali’s suggestions down into more useful things than just talking about how awesome dragons are. It takes up the rest of the time until Keris sees the approach of the layer with the towering rib that Asarin’s brown-burning castle hangs from.

The time spent resting seems to have done her some good. Her arm isn’t aching anymore, at least - whatever muscle tears she gave herself must have healed under the surface - and the frequent spasms and twitches have petered out. Of course, now she’s dealing with weird feelings of hot and cold in her _bones_ , but that’s probably something she’s going to have to live with as a cost of having brass and basalt scabs in her muscles.

Urgh. Her joints are twinging, too. It’s better than _not_ having fast healing, of course, but the side effects are an annoyance.

Keris stretches, and heads downstairs. She notices with a fond smile that Kerisa has crept into her bed - and so have Kali and Ogin. They’re not quite using her as a pillow, but the little tails-and-fluffpile is next to the unbreathing, still shape of Kerisa.

“Morning, sleepyheads!” she calls out. “We’re nearly there. Time to get up and get dressed!”

In fact, time for her to dress everyone so they look their best for Asarin. While also picking clothes for Rathan and Vali that won’t tear if she needs their help in catching their big sister.


	6. Chapter 6

Emerging onto the area of the layer that Asarin controls, her family watches in surprise as the scale of this area of Malfeas becomes evident.

The rib which stretches over the domain of Asarin is a mountain range, covering an expanse of ruined city, swamp and silver forest. There are areas of more intact places within the cityscape, but it’s lost in the immensity. Flights of flying demons flit in the near distance, their airship-sized bodies carrying loads of ore and metal up to the rib.

Because in truth, that is Asarin’s domain - the mountain-range-sized rib that stretches over the ruined landscape. Her capital city is the false sun that hangs down from underneath, shedding its brown fire out of stone walls and crenulations. Compared to the green sun overhead it is a pale, pathetic thing.

There is a sky-chariot waiting for Keris as their carriage drives away from Ligier’s bridge. Keris can see the Shogunate lines to the design, but it’s now overgrown with demon-flesh that holds it together and pulses faintly. 

The captain is a leathery demon who almost reminds Keris of a sziromkerub with how fire burns inside his gullet, and he welcomes her aboard, talking of the vast honour his lady has shown her by offering her the service of the Terrible Wrath to take her to the hanging sun. Keris smiles politely, paying more attention to looking around and refreshing her memory of the place. If she’s going to get the Shogunate artwork from Eshtock out of her domain, she’s going to need to claim a part of the landscape - probably by dumping a Haneylian forest in an area of swampland. She can break its power once she’s unloaded everything, and no doubt Asarin can get them to her palace from there.

Kali and Ogin sit cuddling each other in her hair, staring out at the brown sun and the vastness of this single rib of the King. Gold eyes are bright with excitement and the desire to explore; silver solemn and gleaming with curiosity. There are, thankfully, no escape attempts from either of them.

Vali perks up as he looks over the expanse. “It’s pretty cool,” he decides. “I like the hanging cities.” Yes, Keris notes, there’s more than one. Because this vast rib of Malfeas has buildings growing down from it, and she sees more, less developed cities suspended from it. How many more must she not be able to see?

“Eh,” Rathan says. “Her fire’s pretty weak. Haneyl would be getting very superior about how dull and brown and not-burning-everything it is.”

“She did, remember?” Keris comments dryly, keeping it to an undertone so their captain doesn’t hear. “Last time we were here.” She grimaces, rotating her shoulder a few times to try and alleviate the ache in her joints. She might need that arm for collaring Eko soon, depending on how much mischief she’d been getting up to.

“Rounen was right,” Kerisa whispers to her, clinging onto her as she stares up at her from her eyeless sockets behind her mask. “This world is too big.”

“I know, darling,” Keris replies, hugging her close against her side and ignoring the slimy-dead-rot feeling. “We won’t be here long, I promise. And once we’re inside you won’t need to look out of the windows and see. We’re coming up to land soon, see?”

And indeed, the flaring, demon-flesh-bound remnants of a Shogunate ship have come in to approach the castle - only here, it’s revealed it’s really more of a volcano-spire hanging from the brass rib that spews brown flame, and the castle itself is just a small protrusion of the mass. Keris approached it from another direction last time, and didn’t grasp the sheer scale of the place.

After coming in to dock, Keris and her companions are escorted down dully-lit corridors where everything is a shade of brown, heading up and up onto a grand plaza in a hollow space so big there are smaller palaces built within. There are great statues of Asarin there, each one’s head ablaze with her flame, and row upon row upon row of demon soldiers, lined up into rows.

“Soldiers of Lady Asarin,” a sole voice cries out. “All hail her imperial guest, Keris.”

“Keris!” ten thousand voices cry out in unison. “All hail Keris! Keris! Keris!”

And then from the largest and most towering of the palaces here, far in the distance, Keris sees brown flame emerge from a balcony, and the demons change their tune.

“Asarin!” they cry out, to the sound of horns and gongs. “Asarin! A-sa-rin! A-sa-rin! A-sa-rin!”

Asarin... probably raises a hand, Keris isn’t sure at this distance, and the demons fall silent.

“Welcome, friend,” Asarin says, her voice amplified by demonic magics. “Welcome to my realm, as my beloved guest! Come! A feast awaits!”

((8 successes on her Being Extra roll, +5 autosuccesses from her “tools”, 13 successes total on ‘Impress Keris by being respectful but also totally extra about her armies))

“Makers,” Keris mutters under her breath. “She’s even more dramatic than Malek.”

Rathan, standing close enough to his mother to overhear, smirks.

Nonetheless, Keris can’t help but admit that Asarin does it with _style_. Malek would be jealous of the sheer power and grandeur on display here, which puts her own wood manse and plant-grown servants to shame. And while Keris is normally one to avoid the limelight, she can’t deny that ten thousand voices chanting her name in honour is... intoxicating.

“Best behaviour, boys,” she adds quietly. “Let’s look our best.”

Of _course_ the entire space is made to make people approach Asarin from an inferior position. Of course it’s made to force them to see her giant flaming statues and her vast demonic legions and look up to her on her balcony.

Keris can understand that. Asarin is about her height, after all.

But. Uh. The fact that the walk is so long means that Kerisa gets tired and has to be carried, and the twins are bored by the time they’re half-way across and start playing up.

And as a result, it is a somewhat frazzled Keris who finally gets to the final palace, enters through the unnecessarily large doors, and finds Asarin at the top of another very long flight of stairs in a flowing crimson gown that’s wider in the train than she is tall, a grinning Eko beside her.

Eko has acquired a white jade mask somewhere. Keris is scared to ask where. On the other hand, it does make it somewhat easier to tell which way she’s facing at a distance.

“Lady Asarin,” Keris greets her friend as pleasantly as possible. If she weren’t so good at grabbing flung objects, she’d have left at least two hair ornaments on the floor behind her when Ogin decided to make a game out of pulling them out and giving them to Kali to throw. Rathan and Vali flank her, and Rounen is a few paces back with Kerisa in his arms. “Well met again, my friend.”

She shifts her eyes to Eko, a silent look of we-will-talk-about-this-later-in-private-young-lady crossing her face. “Eko,” she adds in a rather more neutral tone. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

Eko drops into an immaculate - actually, exaggerated - curtsey, and Keris realises that under her dress, her right arm is splinted and plastered up. Why, esteemed Keris, she gestures with her left hand, she is _quite_ well. She and Asarin have been getting along just _fabulously_ , and between them they have rather furthered their interests. Does she like Eko’s new mask, she adds with a tilt of her head. It was a gift between friends after how much help Eko has been. It’s white jade, so Eko can wear it!

“It was my idea,” Asarin says grandiosely. “It suits her!”

Concern overtakes annoyance, and Keris breaks her mask of maternal ire. “You’re hurt!” she gasps, stepping forward quickly to look. “How... what did this to you? You _never_ get hurt!” Gods, she _knew_ it was a bad idea to let her souls run around in Hell unsupervised, and now Eko’s had her _arm_ broken and what if it had been _worse_ , what if...

Oh, mere battle scars, Eko gestures, mimicking Asarin’s pompous motions. And yes, it is true, she’s seldom this careless, but there are few foes she has ever fought akin to the one who broke her arm. Why, it was a battle for the ages!

Annoyance makes an enthusiastic bid to claw its way up concern’s tail and get ahead again. Well... if Eko is being grandiose and cryptic and overacting about things, she can’t be _too_ badly hurt, Keris reasons, and settles a little. “You’ll have to tell me _all about it_ later, then,” she says with iron in her tone, and returns to attention to the lady of the hour.

“Asarin, if I may? Allow me to introduce my twins in person.” Her hair rustles and moves, bringing the two little forms forward and fixing two pairs of curious eyes on the glittery fire-haired lady. “These are Kali and Ogin of the Daiwye, my youngest son and daughter. And as you’ve met Eko already; these are her half-brothers; Rathan and Vali.” She settles a hand on each shoulder - it’s incredibly unfair that she has to reach up to do that in both directions now - and squeezes proudly.

That’s Asarin’s cue to sweep down the stairs in her massive blood red dress, trailing as far behind her as Keris’s hair does, and wrap Keris in a hug, kissing her on each cheek. “Oh, I had seen them before, but they’re even more adorable in person,” she says.

Ogin nods. Kali looks over at Asarin, and loudly says, “Brow’!”

“Hi,” Vali says, hands rammed into his pockets.

“And I’m charmed to meet you,” Rathan says, stooping slightly as he leans in to offer the same greeting to Asarin. “I do hope that my older sister hasn’t been too much of a hassle.”

There’s a faint pink blush on Asarin’s cheeks. “Don’t think you can get around me by schmoozing!” she says sharply. “Eko has been very helpful.”

Yeah, Ratty, Eko gestures, and then catches herself. No, no, she corrects her first gesture, her brother is _quite_ the charmer and Asarin should be careful, but he’s not single. So he should leave Asarin alone, Eko adds with a glare.

“I’m sure she has,” Keris agrees, hugging back. “Shall we start on this feast, then? I can’t wait to see what delights you’ve put on the table, and I’m sure you’ve got a lot to tell me about what you’ve been up to since we last spoke.” She snaps her fingers as though remembering something. “Speaking of which, I seem to recall promising you some Shogunate artwork! I’ll need to find a place to unload it properly - I have it stored, ah, Elsewhere at the moment - but I’ll be glad to see it in your care.”

Asarin flicks her brown fire-hair. “Well, of course!” she says. “I’m so pleased _you’re_ smart enough to trust me with this. Now, come, come, you look hungry and thirsty from your trip; you must dine with me.”

Of course, it’s never just that. Yes, she has a high table for just Keris and her guests, but there’s row after row of lesser finely dressed citizens, dressed in hellish fashions, and a full orchestra. 

“I’m willing to bet she pulled in as many citizens as she could to try to impress you,” Dulmea says, a little cattily. “Even Haneyl isn’t as showy as this. This lady lacks in self-confidence.”

“Well, that’s what she needs a good friend for,” Keris thinks. “And honestly, I’m not _un_ impressed. She can certainly put on a really impressive show, and comparing her to Lilunu or Ligier isn’t really fair.”

“So then,” she says out loud as she settles next to Asarin and plops the twins down together in a high seat. And then loops a hair tendril around their waists to keep them in it. “How have things been for you? Obau was giving you trouble last time we spoke, have you upstaged her yet? Or are you just waiting for her to embarrass herself on her own?”

There’s a brittle look to Asarin’s smile. “Oh, let’s not talk of such petty things,” she says.

“That bad?” Dulmea observes.

“No doubt she’ll humiliate herself in some ways soon enough. If only she cared more about things like throwing up in public or accidentally exposing yourself!” Asarin adds, her hair flaring brighter.

“I’d just go punch her in the face,” Vali says.

“Vali!” Rathan hisses.

“What? I would!”

“I’d like to,” Asarin says darkly. “Believe me, I’d like to.”

“Well, speaking of punching,” Keris says, deftly switching the topic to one that Asarin will definitely find favourable, “I also mentioned those mercenaries I hired, if you remember. The Bloody Lionesses, who were rather in need of a new patron. Rathan was with me for the negotiations with them, and Vali liked their attitude, so how about we tell you a little? After all; if you’re to grant them your favour as their patron, you should know your worshippers, right?”

That cheers Asarin up a lot, and she grins at Keris, a little sheepishly before the mask comes back down. “Just not too loud,” she cautions. “There is a chance there may be some of _them_ reporting to my... sisters. They always cheat and play unfair! And cruelly hunt down those of their servants who realise that I’m a better master!”

“I know the feeling,” Rathan says wisely.

((lol))

Keris stays placatingly quiet as she shares some of her observations of the Lionesses, with Rathan adding his own evaluations in here and there and Vali weighing in between stuffing himself full of food. It seems to cheer Asarin up, as it does when Keris makes a show of presenting her with the guidebook from the Eshtock fashion exhibit - the only piece from what she gathered there that was small enough for her to prepare it for quick and easy access - in a suitably public fashion, speaking of her respect for Asarin’s knowledge of the Shogunate and refined grace. It’s still heavily damaged by damp and rot, of course, but the crafts of the demon realm are cunning, and Asarin has the resources to salvage and repair most of it. The contents more than make up for its condition, anyway.

“Shall we retire after we’re finished to speak more in privacy?” Keris adds in an offhanded undertone as they sit back down again to the applause of the audience after Asarin’s gracious acceptance of the gift. “Away from any listening ears.”

“Of course, of course.” Asarin smiles. “And perhaps to clean up your babies,” she adds, as Kali takes two handfuls of food and tries to force them into her brother’s mouth.

“Eat! Gin!” Kali insists.

Keris groans. “I worked really hard on those gowns,” she sighs mournfully. “Let me tell you, Asarin, they never tell you how much _work_ human babies are.” She pauses. “Well, humanish. You know what I mean. You know they keep trying to escape their crib? And succeeding? I’ve yet to find a playpen that can hold them.”

“Yeah, they’re getting really good at it!” contributes Vali, sounding entirely too approving of this fact. Keris gives him a beady eye, wondering if perhaps having the best of all her children at breaking out of confinement babysit the twins might not have been a bad idea. Has he been giving them ideas? Or advice? Still, that’s enough to lead the conversation into safer grounds, and from thereon the rest of the dinner passes in relative peace.

Once it passes, and Asarin engages in some showy generosity to a few chosen citizens, she and Keris’s group retreats to one of her more private rooms. Keris admires this art gallery, which is a collection of things of the Shogunate stacked high. There are mechanisms hanging from the ceiling, suits of armour standing in the corners, and everywhere little trinkets and relics kept in crystal containers.

“This is just one of my many galleries,” she says, as Vali immediately gravitates to the dragon-faced armours. “I’ve been collecting these things for a millennium, but - ah, when the Shogunate fell, that’s when these things became truly _priceless_. Others simply don’t understand, Keris. Now, what was it that you wanted to say - and you mentioned you had presents for me?” she adds girlishly. Her eyes fall on Kerisa. “Is that ancient ghost one of them? I have a few already, but they’re wonderful stores of ancient knowledge.”

Kerisa peeks out from behind. “Go away!” she insists. “I’m with Keris! She’s going to help me find my parents! I’m no one’s gift!”

“Are you sure?” Asarin smiles, her hair burning brighter at this tiny weak ghost standing up to her. It’s the smile of a cat confronted by an unusually bold mouse - it’ll end only one way, but for now, she’s more curious at what this tiny prey-thing is doing.

Keris feels it’s best to step in now, before things start to go downhill. “I do have gifts,” she says. “But not Kerisa. There was an art museum in Eshtock, preserved behind wards since the days of the Crusade. I need to claim an area to get them out - if you’ll loan me a swamp for a scream I can make it mine, move everything out and then break the magic and return it to being swampland. Then your servants can get them up here. You’ll like the stuff, I think. Not many paintings - the damp got most of them, I’m afraid - but lots of jewellery from all over Creation at the time, one or two sculptures, some arrangements that weren’t made from things that could rot...” She smiles. “There were a lot of weapons and armour too, of course - not true wonders, yet beyond the skill of modern men to make. But I thought you’d be far more interested in the artwork than some boring old spears they gave to their mortal infantry.”

Asarin claps her hands together delightedly. “Of course, of course!” Raising her hands, she steps out of her massively wide dress - which stands on its own, a mark of hidden structure - to reveal a much more form-fitting soft silk robe underneath. “Come, come,” she says, heading for a part of the wall - which turns out to have a hidden door in it. “As it so happens, I have something for you too! With the help of Eko, of course.”

Indeed, indeed, Eko gestures with her right hand pompously.

“Yes...” Keris drawls. “I confess, I _am_ interested in what Eko has been doing with you.”

She half-turns to raise her eyebrows. “Eko? I had thought that Keris had sent you to-”

Oh, that was some sophistry on her part, Eko explains with a curtsy. In fact, while she said she was here representing Keris to help her good friend and ally, she technically never said that Keris had sent her here.

“... yes, you did.”

Whoops, Eko indicates, raising the back of her hand to her face. She had meant to not technically actually lie, but she must have gotten carried away somewhere along the line.

“ _Yes_ ,” says Keris. “You do that.” She sighs. “That said, while I was _not happy_ to find her gone without warning or explanation, I’ll admit that coming here and helping you was at least a good use of her time. And has convinced me to include you in a secret known to very few - but first, please, do show me what she’s helped you with.”

This hidden room is must more secure, and hewn directly from the black basalt of Malfeas. There’s a single pedestal here, a pedestal upon which rests a polished orb of quicksilver-bright metal.

So, Eko gestures, she remembers a certain issue that Keris herself was having with regards to a gift for the fleshweaver Xia...

“... _how_ ” Rathan demands. “You got out before that.”

Eko rolls her eyes. Because she can use her brain and she considered Keris’s lack of preparation for such things and the likely things that a fleshweaver would ask for given their interests and she also borrowed some of Lilunu’s files and read them all very quickly, her silent huff explains. Can we avoid the stupid questions. She smooths down her dress. So she considered that and also considered who would be likely to have giant rampaging behemoths with powerful souls who Eko could dispose of as a help for a friend and then logically of course she went to Asarin because she is a famed warlord who would always have powerful enemies and also she’s super cute-

“I am not cute,” Asarin says, looking up at Eko and pouting slightly.

They can agree to differ, Eko disagrees, signing one-handedly, and anyway one thing led to another and also Eko knew Asarin was a skilled sorceress so they made a deal that Eko would cut all the arms and legs off a giant mercury centipede and in return Asarin would cut out its heart and give it to Keris. 

“Aww,” Vali whines. “I would’ve totally helped!”

The centipede didn’t play fair, Eko explains sulkily. After she dramatically cut off all its legs on one side of its body, it fell on her. Hence the broken arm.

“You got your arm broken _after_ the fight, when the enemy _fell_ on you,” Keris sighs. “You realise Dulmea heard that? You’re going to get a lecture like I do when I show off too much in combat.”

Eko droops. Woe is her, her posture says glumly. It’s so much harder to escape Dulmea’s lectures now that she can be in lots of places at once. She perks up. That’s why, she explains, she was sort of maybe possibly considering kinda staying with Asarin for a little bit longer. As friends! And stabbing buddies! And they can go to paaaaaarties together and do each other’s haaaaaaaaaair and fight in areeeeeeeenas and...

“No,” says Dulmea.

“I’ll consider it,” says Keris. “For a start, it would depend on whether Asarin was willing to host you.”

“Child!” Dulmea says sharply, just as Asarin says “Of course, Keris! It’s lovely to have people around the place who I actually like - and Eko and I have had some fascinating talks on the genesis of First Circle breeds.

Asarin pauses. 

“Though, of course, Keris,” she adds, with a wicked little smirk, “you will need to tell me how you have managed to create your own demon lords.” Eko flinches, and Asarin crows with delight. “Ah ha! Didn’t realise I’d made my own conclusions, did you? You’re a demon lord and,” she spins on Rathan, “you’re a demon lord, and so is Vali, and,” she stares at Rounen and Kerisa and the babies, “... well, no, that’s just a serf, a human ghost, and... whatever they are, they’re not demon lords.”

Kali isn’t paying any attention because she’s rubbing noses with the dragon tattoo on Keris’s arm, but Ogin shrugs. Keris grins. “I knew you were sharp,” she compliments. “Not surprising, I’m only friends with the best. Yes, very well, Asarin. You know how I called Kali and Ogin my _youngest_ son and daughter?”

She spreads her hands to Eko and Rathan. “Now that we’re in private, I’d like to introduce you to the eldest. Eko, my firstborn, Rathan, my second, and Vali, my second son. Haneyl is with Sasimana at the moment, Calesco elected to stay at home, and Zanara is with Unquestionable Lilunu.”

That provokes an intake of breath from Asarin. “That’s nearly a full septarch,” she exhales. “And... the Unquestionable _know_ this? They must, if Unquestionable Lilunu knows...”

“It is, in fact, a full septarch,” Keris says, not willing to go into the chaos that Firisutu’s existence would bring up. “Dulmea is the last - or first, I suppose, since she came before Eko. Unquestionable Lilunu and Ligier both know, and have met several of my... my souls. They think that since we Green Sun Princesses were created to bear the powers of the All-Makers, we’re mimicking the nature of their souls in lesser form.” Eko pouts, and Keris shrugs at her. “Sorry. But you have to admit, darling, you’re powerful in person, but you don’t exactly match up to Asarin’s empire.”

She fixes Asarin with a serious look. “Understand, this is known to very, very few. I only know of three other peers who are aware of how we’re growing souls - Lilunu has implied there are others, but that I’m one of the ones who’s grown most in that direction. And only Ligier and Lilunu have met any of my souls with knowledge of who and what they are, until now. Their status in Hell is still...” She wobbles a hand. “Undefined. I’m keeping them a secret until a ruling is reached, so I’m trusting you with this, my friend.”

((Reaction + Politics, Diff 4))  
((oh asarin. “you’re special and i’m trusting you with big secrets” ego boost. 5+1+2 stunt+3 Kimmy ExSux {secrets, guile, discerning eye}=8. 2+3=5 sux.))

There’s a gleam of bright fire in Asarin’s eyes. Oh, of course, she likes the idea of being special - but it wouldn’t do to underestimate her. She can see the advantages of being a trusted ally - and confidant - of a being that might as well be Unquestionable in terms of personal power.

“Oh, of course, my friend,” Asarin says sweetly. “Just keep away from my greater self if you can avoid it and don’t be a fool and let him steal your heart, and we’ll get on just fine.”

He’s really dumb, Eko contributes. He’d be awful for Mama.

“Yes, exactly, he would! He’s an idiot!”

“Oh, _speaking_ of idiots...” Keris growls, “let me _tell_ you about the most _infuriating_ man I met on my travels through Taira...”

Eko takes off her mask and pulls a face. He wasn’t an idiot, she protests.

“I didn’t say he was an idiot, I said he was _infuriating_ ,” Keris grumbles.

Ah, but then why did she say she was speaking of idiots, Eko counters smugly.

Asarin smirks. “I see you’re certainly not unquestionable,” she says.

“Oh, no,” Keris denies. “No no no no no, no. Definitely not Unquestionable. I’m not crazy.” She shivers. “But, well, it started when I was following a lead to where my father might be, and we had to go past a town...”

((Keris will... hmm. Judge whether Asarin would react particularly badly to her flirting with a Solar, and leave that detail out if so. If not, emphasise how she tricked him and had him fooled about what she was the entire time and then double-tricked him in the capital to accomplish everything she wanted there and then steal a massive haul from his boss and lie to his face about not having done it and run off giggling. Either way there will be lots of complaining about how insufferable he was.))  
((Reaction + Politics, Diff 4))  
((5+1+2 stunt+3 Kimmy ExSux=8. 3+3=6.))  
((No, Keris doesn’t really sense any direct hatred for the Exalted from Asarin. In fact, given the way she collects Shogunate things, it’s maybe more envy than hatred.))  
((Then yes, Keris shares her fling with Ney with her tsundere BFF. Sans racy details since her kids are listening.))

“... and got away clean with the sword and the gems _and_ the blueprints and notes,” Keris finishes proudly. “And he didn’t have a clue!”

“She’s really very, very good at what she does,” Rathan says sycophantically.

Eko rolls her eyes.

“Well, it’s good practice for when we go raiding old cities together, right?” Keris says with a wink at Asarin. “And there’s good news on that front, too. Like Eko said; my adventure in Taira led to another growth. I initiated into the Sapphire Circle. All I need is to learn how to summon demon lords and the specific ritual for you, and we’ll be able to start on that. I can call on you in person to greet the Bloody Lionesses in Saata.”

Asarin smiles at that. “Oh, believe me, I make sure to keep those materials,” she says. “You can never be sure when a foolish sorcerer might want to know such things. As a friend, I’d be _delighted_ to give that to you.”

“Excellent,” Keris grins.

Asarin is delighted with her gifts when Keris descends to recover them.

“Oh, Keris!” she exhales. “They’re actual artwork! Those cubes! All these little things! They’re damaged, of course, but I have my own excellent renovators for things like this! And the catalogue!”

She wraps Keris up in a hug, the cool brown fire of her hair pouring over Keris’s own hair. It’s warm, not hot, and nearly liquid. 

“I will make a public display of these things!” she declares. “It’ll be wonderful!”

Keris hugs her back. “I’m glad to hear it. And I think I can spare you Eko, and Vali if he wants to stay, _as long as_ they stay within your empire and you keep a close eye on them. No more broken arms, you hear me?” she directs at Eko. “And this is a short visit. When I go back to Creation, you’re coming with me.”

Rathan raises a hand. “Actually, I’ll stay a little longer rather than rush back,” he says. “I want to spend some time with my brother for the first time in months. It was a trip out here and, with all due respect, I saw only a fraction of Lady Asarin’s artwork and collection of Shogunate things. I can help corral the others - and if she would be so kind, also have a look at her library. It’s probably most impressive.”

Keris recalls Rathan’s comments about how clingy Oula is. Being multiple layers away from her with peace to read is probably something he’s looking forwards to.

“Alright,” she agrees with good humour. “But since you’re the oldest who isn’t Eko, that means you’re in charge of getting your brother and sister back to my townhouse when the time comes to leave.” She nods at Asarin. “Perhaps Asarin could come and visit? I’d be glad to act as host in return.”

Asarin’s eyes light up with the prospect of a returned favour - and an invitation to the Conventicle, a place to approach the Unquestionable in relative safety. “Oh, that would be just wonderful,” she gushes, clasping Keris’s hand. “You are such a good friend.”

“As are you,” Keris returns. Asarin really is good company to be around. But she’ll also be a useful ally, when the time comes to start asking for favours. And the mercury-centipede heart she can pay Xia with is a perfect example of _that_ , to be sure. “I look forward to it!”

Keris stays for another scream, but what kicks off her return is a message from Rounen, who’d retreated back inside her in a sulk after Asarin called him a demon in passing.

“Ma’am,” he says. “I have... uh, a message for you. From Princess Haneyl and Lady Sasimana, if you can believe it. It is quite unorthodox.”

Keris blinks. “From Sasi and Haneyl? It’s not the tenday... what did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything,” Rounen reports. “A sziromkerub arrived at my mansion demanding to see me on orders of the princess. I think you had better come see yourself.”

Sitting herself down next to Kali and Ogin’s crib, Keris sinks into meditation, emerging in the same library within Rounen’s estate that she’d had to leave in a hurry during the breakout. Rounen is waiting, standing next to a golden-petalled sziromkerub with pale pink flame. They look very young - they’re as small as Saji was when Keris first saw her. They also have a large case chained to their wrists, sealed up with heavy locks.

“Who are you?” the sziromkerub asks.

“Seven Branch, address the All Queen with more respect!” Rounen snaps.

“The what?”

“I’m Haneyl’s mother,” Keris tells them, on the basis that Haneyl will definitely have left an impression. “Who are you, and what message are you carrying?”

The petal cherub perks up. “Oh! Right! Because that’s who the message is for! Uh, there’s two! There’s the one I gave Rounen, and then there’s the one inside the case that I didn’t get to read, but Princess Haneyl told me to tell you was in there. It was written by the pretty white lady. Sasimana, that was her name! There’s really important things in the case they didn’t tell me about, and I couldn’t write a story to come up with what I might be carrying because I had to carry this thing. It’s really heavy!”

“Well, we can take care of that first.” Keris sits down beside the little creature and starts working her hair into the locks. Haneyl and Sasi wouldn’t have bothered including a key. Not when they knew they were sending it to her. Sasi may even have shaped it to only be unlockable by something as flexible and sensitive as Keris’s hair tendrils, which can bend around inside the lock and map out the insides.

“Your message to Rounen was that you were travelling on Haneyl’s orders, then? And had to see me?” she confirms. “How did you get here, anyway?”

“Oh, that! Uh... I mean, Haneyl wrote me into being, then tied this to my hands, then told me to go find you and that Rounen or someone called Ellyorsaji would be also useful... then there was a light and I felt like I was being stretched then I vanished and I felt like I was travelling for aaaaaaages but didn’t have a body then I landed in a river and got chased by something big with teeth.”

The petal cherub pulls a face. “That’s never happened before! But I don’t think anything has happened to me before!”

Keris’s smile widens as she puts the pieces together. “A banishment... a banishment that sent you _back here_ , regardless of them making you there. That’s... that’s really clever, hah. And Elly and Saji are two different sziromkeruby, sweetheart. They work for Haneyl like how Rounen works for me. You did very well getting this here; I’ll tell Haneyl I was impressed.”

“Right.” Seven Branch pauses. “Uh, what do I do now? I mean, I think that’s why I was made. I dunno what’s meant to happen next.”

“Well, you could always stay at Rounen’s estate for a while,” Keris suggests. “He has _lots_ of stories. A whole _library_ of them. And I bet he can arrange for you to be taught about this world and how it works.”

“Yeah. OK,” it says.

When Keris picks the lock, she finds that there’s a number of neatly packed vials. In one, blood. In another, hair. In the next... well, that’s yellow, so. Uh. And the next one is... oh.

Keris pulls a face. She doesn’t want to know exactly how Sasi got her hand on these things. And hopes Haneyl was kept out of the procurement procedure.

But there’s also two letters in there, one from Sasi and one from Haneyl. Haneyl’s one is long, flowery, and probably for later, while Sasi’s is much more to the point.

“Dear one,” she writes.

“I made sure that you had the full range needed for optimal fleshcrafting. Blood, hair, urine, and generative fluids from a Dragonblood. I look forwards to seeing you when you get back soon. I have missed you, and look forwards to meeting all three of your children.

“All my heart,

“Sasimana”

“Oh, Sasi,” Keris whispers. “You brilliant, brilliant woman. I love you _so much_.”

She looks up at Rounen. “We’re heading back to the townhouse as soon as we can be packed, and getting these and the heart to Xia.” A silly grin spreads over her face. “We’re almost there!”

“So who will be escorting you, ma’am?” he checks. “If you keep the numbers down, you can go on foot - and leave the carriage for the others. You will need Kerisa, of course, and I can travel inside you...”

“Eko, Rathan and Vali will be staying until it’s time for us to return to Creation,” Keris says. “It’ll do them good to get some outside experience with a trusted friend who - bluntly - has an empire beset on two sides by things they can break without upsetting anyone. And I’ve warned her to be very careful about looking after them, too.” She cracks her knuckles, massaging her left arm. The ache in her joints is starting to fade as the tattoo-dragon finishes settling in, though there’s still the odd fluctuation of temperature. “That means it’ll just be me, Kerisa and the twins - I can just ride Cissidy, with that kind of load.”

“That makes matters easier, ma’am,” he says.

And indeed it is easier. Keris doesn’t exactly lie to Asarin, but she does say she got a message that meant she was needed back at the Conventicle quickly and Asarin is very understanding and again lends her the use of her Shogunate ship to get to the light bridge.

That, at least, lets her save Cissidy’s strength for the dash back to the Althing. The internal structure has rebuilt itself in the few days she’s been away, with a rainbow-coloured glass building twining around the central tower.

More importantly, though, there’s a work crew building a brass and stone tower that resembles a warped neomah tower, and a tent encampment around it. When Keris checks on it, it’s Xia’s crews building her tower from the stone they carried with them.

“Oh, lovely to see you’re back,” Lilunu says, when Keris checks in on her. “Might we have a word? About... well, about Zanara?”

“Of course,” Keris says, half-fond, half-cautious. “Was the rainbow-glass their idea? I remember them coming up with something like that along with Vali a while ago.”

Lilunu nods. “I was teaching them the arts of geomantic-flesh conflation,” she says casually, slipping her robe off her shoulders to show the spiral pattern that looks like it was made by flicking paint at it. “That’s how that came about. They found it very intuitive. I was quite impressed.”

Keris boggles slightly at that. Zanara... made a giant glass tower by Lilunu letting them practice tattooing on her. She says as much.

“My flesh is my flesh,” Lilunu responds, running her hand over a wall. “I am I.”

“I remember your lessons, but... I’m still impressed,” she admits. “But we’re getting off-topic; what did you want to say?”

“I was getting to that,” Lilunu says, wincing. “So, me, Zanara and Oula were getting on well. And then a council of the Unquestionable was called, and I had to leave them. Things didn’t go... so well after that.”

“... oh dear,” says Keris. “Where are they now?”

“So, Zanara at first clung to Oula,” Lilunu says, shifting like... well, like Keris is the more important one here. Her eyes are fading to grey colourlessness. “And girl-Zanara talked Oula into, uh, making herself into a birthday present from both of them for Rathan. Which is why she now has a range of tattoos covering both arms and her back. They’re very nicely done,” Lilunu hastens to add. “But then...

“Well, then Hermione found her, and told her about Antifasi, and Zanara broke into that off-limits part of the attics.”

Dread wells up thick and cold. Hermione and girl-Zanara was potentially a very dangerous combination, and if Hermione had pointed her at an off-limits area...

“Antifasi?”

The dragon on Keris’s arm rears up at that, head-tilted. 

“She is the soul birthed at the same time as Hermione,” Lilunu says in a tiny voice. “She is a deaf-mute, with the form of a little girl.”

A soul of Oramus.

Keris closes her eyes and thinks very hard for a few moments.

“Okay,” she decides. “This is fixable. Nothing too disastrous yet. Oula... is going to be spitting teeth when I tell her Rathan won’t be back for a while, and Zanara’s throwing a tantrum by deliberating breaking some rules, but they’ll both calm down given time. So.”

She opens her eyes and gives her nervous-looking mentor a reassuring smile. “I’m not upset,” she emphasises. “Honestly, I was hopeful, but I’m not exactly shocked at this. Children are hard work. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve had to deal with them acting out like this within me. First priority... Oula is recovering from the tattoos? Not in any immediate danger, not being dramatic, occupied with something? Then we should probably go and see what Zanara decided to do _after_ deliberately breaking in to see Antifasi, because if I know them they didn’t have much of a plan beyond doing it.”

“Oh, yes, I taught Zanara well,” Lilunu says, sounding slightly offended. “But I only got out of the meeting very recently and I haven’t been up to the attic yet and... uh, well, Zanara hasn’t come out yet.”

Something yawns in Keris’s gut as they head up the stairs, spiralling higher and higher and higher, above the grand halls and the art galleries and the workrooms of the Conventicle. It’s grey up here. Grey and dusty.

There are dead flies on the ground.

“Her presence does this,” Lilunu says softly. She’s scared, Keris realises. Her eyes flicker between colours more rapidly, and her hair can’t decide what length it is meant to be.

Unsure of what to say to reassure her, Keris takes her hand - her left, with Keris’s right - and tries to communicate support through that.

She should probably mention the weird feelings her left arm’s been having - the odd sensations in her bones have finally faded, at least - but that can wait.

The floor boards creak under their feet. There’s a door in front of them. Lilunu pushes it open.

There’s a little girl in here, surrounded by dead flies. Her hair is as red as Keris’s. A scaled tail pokes out from under her dress. 

Keris knows her face. That’s what Hermione’s girl form looks like. So that’s what Hermione is copying. Unless... they really are twins.

Next to her is a stone statue of a girl, reaching out. Her stone hands are locked with the blind girl’s, and the girl is clinging onto the statue, sometimes reaching up to stroke her face.

Sitting back on a stool, six legs swinging, is Zanara - Nara - whistling to himself. “Hi Mama, Lilunu,” he says cheerfully.

“Hi sweetheart,” Keris replies absently, eyes still on the little girl. Her hair is just as red as Keris’s own... and she’s Hermione’s twin, after Keris has spent so long pregnant with twins of her own, told Lilunu about them, watched as the longing on her face...

She sneaks a glance at Lilunu, not quite willing to put words to the suspicions forming in the back of her mind.

“Zanara,” Lilunu says - and oh, she’s distinctly more harsh with Nara than she is with Zana. “What are you _doing_?”

Nara grins. “The me who is not is talking with her,” he explains. “It’s really weird, but quite fun.”

“How is she talking if she’s not at the mo-” Keris begins, then cuts herself off. Right. The little girl - Antifasi - is of the Dragon Beyond the World. Communicating with the half of Zanara that doesn’t quite exist right now would probably be easier for her than talking to the part that does. “Fine,” she dismisses. “And what are you talking to her _about?_ ”

“Flowers,” Zanara says innocently, combing his long and dusty hair with his fingers. “She wanted to talk to a not-boy. I think it’s because she’s a girl.”

“Mmm.” Keris glances over at Lilunu again. “She can’t see or hear us - can I let her know we’re here? Or are you telling her?”

Nara tilts his head. “She knows you’re not not here, but not what you’re doing,” he explains. “It’s kind of hard to talk to her. Even for me. Eko wouldn’t have a chance!”

((Heh. Zanara is as much "communication" as Eko is "insight". : D))

Kneeling down next to the little dragon-girl as her fingers play across the stone face of the statue she’s clinging to, Keris lets a very, very gentle hand come down on Antifasi’s own.

The little girl flinches away, hands going up blindly to try to fend away whatever’s touching her. She gasps; a very human sound, but that opening of her mouth reveals her mouth of sharp teeth and her forked tongue. Keris lets her push the offending hand away, not resisting in the slightest and keeping her movements slow and accommodating so that the blind-mute girl can explore the new stimulus by touch if she wants.

Her hands drift up, feeling blindly at Keris’s right hand. She moves up the shoulder, until she finds Keris’s face. Cupping it, Antifasi’s small hands feel first Keris’s jawline, then her lips, feeling her out until she finds the temples.

“She likes doing this to anyone she meets,” Lilunu says softly. “Even to me.”

“She loves you,” Nara contributes. “She knows you love her too. Even if sometimes she hates only seeing things that aren’t real and only speaking to things that don’t exist.”

“Oh.” Sparkling tears form in Lilunu’s eyes.

But Antifasi’s hands haven’t finished questing. She explores down Keris’s front, feeling the material that makes up her dress, and then shifts over to Keris’s left arm.

That, Keris certainly feels, because to the skin on that arm, Antifasi’s touch feels like a thin layer of stone over strange that’s humming and squirming. She traches out Keris’s arm, curious about the brass and stone scars, until her fingers find the little dragon tattoo. 

Rearing out of Keris’s flesh, the ink-dragon sniffs at Antifasi’s fingers, and then licks one with a forked tongue.

Antifasi bursts into gales of childish giggles at that, slitted sightless green eyes rolling back. She cups the dragon in both hands, and it rolls around in her palms, only making her giggle more.

Keris smiles. “Well, she certainly likes my new friend.” She glances back. “Did you think of a name, by the way? I’ve noticed I can sense the nature of people’s power through that arm. Not their strength, but I get a better sense of the flavour of their essence than I do when I use the King’s sight, I think.”

Lilunu tilts her head, looking interested. “Fascinating,” she says. “Perhaps it is a gift of the little dragon. Who... no, I haven’t named yet. I’ve thought of several names, but none of them _feel_ right.”

“A little dragon with eyes like yours and an occult flame, who helps me sense the energies of others,” Keris muses. “Something related to that, maybe?” She taps Antifasi on the nose playfully with a hair tendril, and smiles as one of the little girl’s hands comes up to run through her hair; gathering up a fistful of locks and letting the strands sieve out through her tiny fingers. “I wonder if you know what it won’t be, hmm?”

“Well, perhaps we can talk more about this later,” Lilunu says, suddenly nervous for no good reason that Keris can see. “For my parent, please, Keris, take your family back home and relax. You must be tired, and Xia is nearly done building her tower. And Oula might need care from you.” She licks her lips. “So, please, go.”

“... okay,” Keris says, feeling a little hurt by the sudden dismissal. “Of course. Thank you for watching Zanara for me, and teaching them so much - I’m sure they’ll put the lessons to good use.” She gathers up the twins, who’ve crawled over to meet Nara and assault three of his six legs, and motions to him. “Come on, darlings. I have the last ingredient Xia wants, so we can hand all of them over to her once her tower is finished, and she might let you watch the making. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Yes,” Nara says, dragging Zana’s statue behind him with a thump-thump-thump. “And...”

But that’s not what Keris is hearing anymore. There’s someone coming up the stairs - distant, but getting closer. She recognises that gait. 

It’s Orabilis. The End of All Wisdom.

Keris blanches, looking around frantically. Zanara - both of Zanara - and the twins. Shit. Shit shit shit; Calesco would be worse, but this is still a really bad meeting to get caught in. “Orabilis is coming,” she hisses quietly, jerking her head towards the stairs. “Is there another way down from the attics? I’d rather not bump into him if he’s here on business.”

Zanara looks around wildly. “The windows,” he hisses. The windows here are small and dusty, but they can open. “We’ll... just promise to let us out again next time you sleep!”

Keris nods. “I will,” she swears. “And good idea; quick, quick, in.” She touches both of them, and they dissolve into paint-flecked light that swirls into her hair and sinks into her. Both of her twins are up and in her arms as soon as the light fades, and Keris is already moving towards the windows. “Lilunu...” she murmurs, wary of the noise carrying, “... thank you.”

It’s all she has time for as she unlatches a window and bounds off down the wall.

It’s a long run down a vertical tower. And matters are made worse by the fact that Kali decides Keris is doing this for her amusement and flying practice, and turns into a bird. She flaps downy wings inside her clothing, trying to fly.

But Keris snarls her up tightly in her dress before she can worm out, and dashes across the ground, collapsing home in nervous exhaustion.

“Who is that?” Kerisa asks softly. “You and the Lilly lady were both really scared.”

“He, uh...” Keris pants. “He tells people what they are and aren’t allowed to do. He’s a very scary person, and even though he likes me for helping him once, I do my best not to spend time around him. I’m worried that if he found out about my children, he’d say I wasn’t allowed them. Not you, probably, but the older ones.”

Nara’s voice echoes inside her head. “Antifasi is very scared of him,” he says quietly. “She said she hates him. She’s afraid he’s going to treat her like Lela, because he’s scared that she’s a seer and knows things she shouldn’t.”

“Lela? Who’s Lela, and how does he treat her?” Keris thinks. If Orabilis has made a ruling of some sort against another of Lilunu’s souls... oh, that doesn’t sound good to her. That already doesn’t sound good to her _at all_.

“She’s never light,” Nara says. “And she’s never free.”

Keris presses her lips together. Never light... the other Dragon, then. Like Calesco, lies and shadows, and like Vali, the refusal to be ca- ah. _Ah_. Yes, she thinks. That makes sense. Of course Orabilis would cage the part of Lilunu that wants to be free... _oh_. Which is why she flinches away from anything that so much as hints at taking any independence for herself, or...

Keris purses her lips.

“Did Antifasi,” she asks, very, very quietly, “say which of Lilunu’s souls _don’t_ know where Lela is kept?” Lilunu won’t know. That would be half the point. But if Antifasi knows about her in some sense, maybe another of Lilunu’s souls might also have gleaned something of use?

Nara shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t know everything that is not. She only sees some things that are not. She is a seer, not the Ancient and Firstborn, she said when we tried to, uh. Do exactly what you’re trying to do. Sorry, mama.”

“Damn,” Keris curses quietly. “Well, at least you agree with me. As will... basically everyone; I’m not sure we even need a vote there. Unless... Dulmea?”

“I do hope you are not _planning rebellion against the Unquestionable_ ,” Dulmea says, voice chilly.

“Quite the opposite,” Keris thinks. “At the moment, I’m just planning to get a look at a soul of one of them that’s been shackled and chained. One of the souls of the Speaker for the Yozis, in fact. How can she Speak for the Shadow of All Things if her soul born from his nature is imprisoned?”

((Per + Pres to persuade her, playing off her loyalty to the Yozis. :p))  
((Hmm. How does this play with Dulmea’s thing of basically being flipped to “The only rules here are the ones you set. This is your place. Outside, you obey them - but that is something else.” and not being part of the Descending Hierarchy? She’s caution, and the view that it’s “better to seem loyal and act loyal than prove disloyal” - but she’s not fully loyal anymore. She’s admitted she’s not part of the Hellish hierarchy.))  
((Yes, but “outside you obey them” applies to Keris. :p))  
((Yeah, just considering what her internal viewpoint is there. So, heh, 4+5+3 Mendaciloquent Maverick+2 stunt+9 Adorjani ExD {unconsidered variable, shreds the best-laid plans, purposeful chaos}=23, cause she needs Dulmea-mama on side for this to have a good chance of working. 10 sux.))

Oh, she has her mother there. She can hear Dulmea squirm. “You might be right there,” Dulmea concedes reluctantly, to the sound of almost Ekoese-like smugness from Nara. “Lady Lilunu is Unquestionable too, after all.”

“So the first job is finding her,” Keris muses. “Lilunu won’t know where she is. Orabilis will, but fat chance getting it from him. Who else, who else...”

One name pops to mind. Keris dismisses it. The Contrary One may know, or she may not, but she’ll only tell Keris if she wants to and probably won’t even be aware Keris is looking. Though she should, Keris notes, make a silver mask with kymaaeran patterning on it, in case she ever does see the Dragon’s fetich-soul again.

“Lilunu’s souls are still a maybe,” she decides. “It’s worth showing interest in meeting the others. Scrying’s no good; wards would be the first thing I’d put up. Can’t exactly follow the Eyes of Orabilis... Orabilis _himself_... is possible, but too risky and way too time-consuming. Hmm.” She scratches her head. “I hate to say it, but we may need to just keep our eyes open for a lucky break.”

“I guess so,” Nara says. He pauses. “Also, uh, we left Oula behind. You probably need to run back and collect her. And you want to see her-our nice work!”

“Yes, you’re right,” Keris agrees. “Let me get the twins settled here, and we’ll go.”

When Keris returns to the All-Thing, it’s as a green sun prince returning to collect a servant. She’s proud. She’s strong. And she’s certainly not skulking around. 

She’s just... checking around corners and making sure Orabilis isn’t here.

Keris makes it to Lilunu’s beautiful workshop without running into him, and slips in. A demon looks about to object, but then she’s recognised. That Lilunu has given Keris basically free access to her workrooms is something to notice.

Oula herself is sleeping on her front under a blanket in a corner, her arms and back bandaged up. She stirs as Keris touches her leg. “Oh... uh, what is it. Aunty?” she says, yawning. She winces, and yawns again. Then winces again. “... need to stop doing that. Moving hurts. But I’m just tired.”

“You got yourself some tattoos,” Keris says. It’s not a question. “Let me see? Lilunu said that Zanara did good work.”

Oula nods. There’s bags under her eyes, and she’s clearly in pain. Stiffly, she tries to sit up without moving her arms or chest, which is a doomed endeavour. The blanket falls away, revealing that that’s about all she’s got on. “Sorry, Aunty, I bled on my clothes,” she confesses, “so Lilunu took them to be washed. And, uh, you’re going to have to help me change the bandages again, probably. They’re holding on waxed paper, but it has to be replaced every so often.”

Keris helps her unwrap the bandages and remove the paper layers underneath.

The first part revealed is the red moon rising across her upper back. It’s intricately detailed, picked out in countless subtly different shades of reds and pinks, and Keris admires it in its own right. Zanara knows their brother’s moon very well. It shimmers under her skin like ice and the shading means Keris can’t help but brush against it with a strand of hair just to see if it truly has depth.

But it doesn’t stop there. Rays of moonlight radiate out from the disc and embrace Oula like a lover’s arms, wrapping around onto her chest, cupping her breasts and squeezing her shoulders, and run down her arms. And as they travel they become other than beams. There are shapes forming from the red lines - horned beasts and sea creatures taking shape, glimpses of creatures like Oula and other horned humanoids not quite like her. The tide washes down, picking up more silver foam - or silver like the silver in Keris’s blood - into intricate curling geometric patterns like waves and eventually it ends just short of her wrists.

The meaning of this moon-and-wave symbolism so clearly emblazoned on Oula is entirely clear to any onlooker. It’s a mark of permanent love, of giving even her skin over to Rathan, so anyone can see it.

The other interesting thing is that all the tattoos keep away from the seam down her chest where it could swing open. Keris wonders what aesthetic reasons Zanara had for that. Maybe it was just that tattooing the sealing lips there would be too painful.

She whistles, long and slow. “Well,” she says, “Lilunu wasn’t wrong. It’s beautiful.”

Oula nods. “I was learning with Zanara too, what Lady Lilunu was saying,” she says almost shyly. “I’m not as clever as Zana is. It’s only been a few days and I don’t think I can do anything as well as they can. I wish I could.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Keris tells her. “Eko elected to stay with Asarin until we leave; Vali wanted to hang around with them too, and Rathan decided that he wanted to spend some time with his brother and also make sure the pair of them come back when it’s time to go. So you’ll have enough time to study up on Lilunu’s ways of working the body _and_ her methods of geomantic acupuncture, as well as healing from your tattoos so they look perfect for him when he gets back.” She grins. “And you’re going to put a lot of effort into both of those, because ‘geomantic acupuncture’ happens to be exactly the skillset I might want Rathan to take with him to cap some of the seabed demesnes around Saata, long-term. So study hard, alright?”

“I... he left me behind?” Oula says, eyes going wide but her pupils shrinking to little pinpricks. “But... you... I...are there any other women after him! Or anyone who might try to _tempt_ him?” She’s hyperventilating despite the obvious pain it’s causing her. “No... no,” her hands go to her face, “you said he’s just doing it to be with Vali, but... I should be with him! To look after him! And he can’t even fight properly! What if he needs me?” Oula squeaks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Keris soothes, moving to take Oula’s hands. “Honestly, I think he has just been missing Vali a bit. You know how they like going off and building forts and stuff when they’re both in the Domain. The only women with him are Eko and Asarin - and Asarin is a lot like Haneyl, and gave her heart to her Greater Self long ago. She’s no more interested in Rathan than you are in Rounen.”

She squeezes gently. “And you know he’ll be safe, because for all that they squabble, anything that tries to hurt him is going to get attacked first by Vali and then by Eko. And then by Asarin. And then by Asarin’s army.” A pause. “Well, maybe not exactly that order, but you understand me. He’s safe, and he’ll be back soon, but he wanted to give you some time to focus on learning Lilunu’s methods of architecture and geomancy so you could take them back to the Sea.”

Oula gasps for breath. “Yes, yes,” she says, tears of mercury welling up in her eyes. “Yes, of course. I’m just... I haven’t been away from him for so long since I grew up.”

Her hands clench into fists and relax. “Lady Lilunu is really kind, too, so I shouldn’t seem ungrateful,” she says weakly. “I don’t remember if I told you this before, I found I could turn my legs into a dolphin’s tail with my mercury, and I think I could do the rest if I wanted to. What she said about how architecture and your flesh are the same thing made so much sense.” She smiles a watery smile. “And that means the Sea and Rathan are now part of me,” she says. “Well, they always were, because I was born from them, but now they are even more so.”

“Huh. Well, tell you what,” offers Keris. “I have ponds and lakes on my grounds. We can go back home, and you can show me. I’d like to see your full dolphin form - and we can check how your tattoos look in that state. Sound good?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d like that,” Oula says. “Oh, I’m sorry, Aunty. I’m just being tearful because... because I’m not sleeping well and it hurts.” She smiles. “Lilunu says that beauty always comes with a little pain, and these designs make me very beautiful. She did some of the designs of the creatures on my arms herself. She... she said she could feel the other ones, the ones with the different horns, in the bits that wave cherubs have that I don’t anymore.”

Keris helps her up. “I’ll have a look and see what I can do for the pain when we’re home,” she promises. “Until then... well, that’s yet another present you can give Rathan when he’s back. Knowledge of what’s coming.” She helps Oula up. “Come on, that’s it. And you can meet Piu properly, too. I rather think you’ll like her.”

And with Oula cradled in Keris’s arms, they head home.


	7. Chapter 7

The fleshweaver Xia is beside her half-built tower when Keris goes looking for her, lounging upon a divan. Her mist-thin gown hides nothing at all, and for good reason. Even half-built, her tower emits a ferocious heat far beyond that of the flame of a normal neomah tower. It’s sweltering in her tent, and the vessels full of water left lying around have turned it into a sauna with the air full of steam.

A neomah servant kneels as they paint her nails with something that glows and twists like a living flame. 

Keris is _delighted_ to discover that while the temperature is oppressive, the steam doesn’t bother her at all. It’s not like when she first arrived in An Teng; where the sweltering suffocation of heat and humidity had all but rendered her helpless. She can sense the amount of water in the air, but it doesn’t impair her at all. She can even see through it! And the silver feathers in her hair fluff out a little and tingle pleasantly.

Ah. This must be something she got from the snake. A warm little smug feeling fills her, and a happy hiss comes from the back of her mind.

“You weren’t kidding about it being better than normal neomah towers,” she opens with. “And I have all of the ingredients for the fleshweaving now, along with payment.”

Xia waves at her with one already-painted hand, leaving trails of fire in the air where her nails move. “That’s what I like to hear from a client,” she says in her Nexan burr. “And yes, this is why I can’t swallow my tower, unlike my sisters. It burns too hot - but it means I can refine souls and flesh they can’t. That’s why you wanted me, isn’t it?

She beckons Keris closer, shortly ordering her servants to bring seats and chalcanth. “Now, what do you offer in payment?”

Reaching down to a silver box-pouch on her hip, Keris unhooked it from her belt and held it out in the flat of her hand. She pauses a moment for dramatic effect, then opens it to reveal the liquid-bright sphere of polished silvery metal inside.

“The soul of a behemoth,” she says. “A great mercury centipede that rampaged across a half-layer of the City, caught and bound in its carved-out heart.” She grins. “I think that qualifies as rare flesh _and_ a fine soul, don’t you?”

Xia’s dark eyes light up - literally, glowing a dull purple. “Oh, that will do, that _will_ do,” she says. “So, what form are you looking for? You want to try to cultivate dragon’s blood, yes? And I believe you mentioned a Tengese appearance?”

“The dragon’s blood is more important,” Keris cautions, closing the lid on the silvery orb. “But yeah, she’s going to be Tengese with some Realm blood. Shall we go through what you have to work with?”

With a few snapped orders, more servants come rushing in - demons with brushes and ink, a lumbering horse-sized demon with a scribe’s desk chained to its back, and the like. They all prostrate themselves before their mistress.

“Take notes,” she orders. “And yes, Lady Keris, I would appreciate that.”

“First of all, we have two Lookshyian heads - a Fire Aspect as strong as a demon lord, and Wood Aspect a little weaker than you are,” Keris begins. “Both about...” she purses her lips, counting back, “... five months old? But they’ve been kept preserved in ice. The Wood Aspect was well-bred, the Fire Aspect was a prodigy who’d become very powerful very quickly. Both were young.”

She waits as this is noted down.

“Second, and I suspect more useful; a full set of materials from a Dynastic Water Aspect of exceptional breeding - blood, hair, urine and semen, all packaged and preserved. Taken no more than two or three weeks ago, too. And then lastly...”

Keris has weighed the value of her last component. There are reasons for it and reasons against... but in the end, it comes down to the simple fact that she wants this baby to be _hers_. And, well. There’s an easy way to do that and also have it be Tengese.

“Lastly, I’m going to contribute something. A viable baby at the very beginning of development - part mine, and part Tengese, which you can shape the rest around. The Tengese parent has none of the dragon’s blood that I know of, but their features should be very strong - and as long as the embryo spends very little time in me, it should be human enough to not turn out like Kali and Ogin. I think.”

Xia’s scribes write all this down, and their lady glances over things. “And the souls?” she asks. “These matter too.”

“As I’ve said; a young ghost, five years of age when she died during the Crusade. Slain by raksha, if that matters.” Keris’s face twists into a sneer at the thought of the chaos-spawn. “Her parents promised to come back for her, and her faith in that promise was what anchored her to life. I’ve never met anyone with stronger will or more stubborn determination, despite her age. She’s willing to be reborn and more or less understands what the process will involve, though I swore to her that it wouldn’t hurt.”

Xia raises her... well, not her eyebrows, because she has none, but she does what she would do if she does that. “I can’t guarantee that,” she says. “The process of reforging a human soul into flesh once more is painful by its nature - much like birth is for a child.”

Keris sighs. “Well, I’d like it to be as painless as such things can be. And then... we have the po. We’ll need to boil a lot of power off that. It’s a Greater Yidak, powerful and cunning, the equal of a demon lord. Murdered seventeen years ago - hung from a tree and never cut down. Its form was part hyena, part cow and part lion, and it could regenerate limbs - fake injury and then attack.” She shucks the jacket she’s wearing and pulls up her top, exposing the still-jagged scars left by the jaws of her mother’s hungry ghost. “It did this to me when we fought, before I crushed it, and I know for a fact it ran off at least one young Solar Exalt who barely escaped with his life. It lived high in the mountains, summoning snowstorms to hide itself and attacking caravans and wanderers. It was a soul-eater; that’s how it got so strong, and - oh, yes, it could suck in the souls of its victims, but also vomit them out as well; lesser feral things that attacked mindlessly while it escaped.”

“Hmm.” Xia strokes her chin with one of her unpainted nails. “This’ll be a strong soul, fused to an old ghost. I’ll need to reinforce the flesh to stop them tearing it apart before I smelt them.” She smiles at Keris, the smile of the professional. “This’ll be interesting as a masterpiece. I could make quite a behemoth from these kinds of fleshes and souls. Keeping it human is a waste - but you’re paying me well for this, so your whim is my desire.” The way she says these last words causes a flush of heat in Keris - even in this hot place.

Tensing a little at the sudden bolt of lust, Keris’s hair rustles a little as she forces it back down. “She’ll be glorious as a Dragonblood, though, when she Exalts,” she points out. “And with souls like these, I’ll be shocked if she doesn’t.”

Keris is getting a better grip on Xia’s nature. She’s kin to the neomah, yes, but the heat of passion is literal with her. She’s not truly a fleshweaver; she’s a fleshforger, a fleshsmelter. When she gets people hot, it isn’t a metaphor. Her lovers likely must either survive great heat, or perish.

“Well, if the dragon’s blood doesn’t make itself known, it’s not a flaw in my work,” Xia says sharply.

“It will,” Keris retorts calmly. “Shall I give you the materials now, or- no, of course, not until your tower is built. And I’ll need to generate that last ingredient anyway. When will you be ready by?”

“A few screams. The geomancy of the Conventicle is very accepting of my nature,” Xia says, seeming to lose interest and admiring her nails once more. “You will know when the top ignites with my flame.”

“Until then,” Keris agrees with a nod. “And payment on completion.”

“Mmm.” The sound from Xia sends another hot flush up Keris’s back, running down her right arm - but not her left arm, strangely. “If you’d like to dally, just come around. I am sister to the neomah, after all, and I’ll take payment in their style. I have nothing much to do until the tower is built.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” is Keris’s response, though she doubts she’ll take Xia up on it. Sasi is fresh in her memory again, and she’s looking forward to seeing her love again.

“Well, see you later - or sooner,” is Xia’s response, as she goes back to having flame painted on her many nails.

The Conventicle feels cold away from the tower. Keris is just glad she’s not sweating like she should be. Her po is very useful there.

“What to do, what to do...” she sighs. “Ugh. I don’t wanna be fat again. But...”

She closes her eyes and feels within herself. Among the ribbons of dead men lying in her lungs is one with a particular flavour that she remembers - a ribbon of golden sunlight and warmth from the ship that became the Baisha.

“I promised you I’d honour your memory,” she murmurs thoughtfully. “And this would give you an heir. An exceptional one, even.”

One hand goes to her navel. Keris considers for a while.

“... later,” she decides. “I can do it later. And honestly, the less time it spends within me the better, if I want a human child. For now... shit, I still need to give Oula that check-up.”

Keris heads back to her townhouse. She realises she still has ash in her hair from the air in Asarin’s domain. She’s barely rested at all since she got back, so it might be an idea to find something easy to do. Like checking up on Oula in the baths - even if Oula tends to like water far too cold for Keris’s preferences.

Actually, she recalls, Oula mentioned something about being able to sculpt herself with mercury. That might be something to see. 

Oula, of course, seldom protests going near the water - and so Keris collects her and heads to the nearest baths. However, as she approaches, she can hear that they’re already occupied. Occupied by three people, who are... ah, rather busy. Two of them are neomah put in Keris’s service.

The third is clearly, obviously, Kuha.

None of the participants of the three-way notice as Keris walks into the room and stands there for a few seconds, watching, as the numbness of shock drains away.

They sure as hell notice when her anima flares, though.

Absolute silence crushes every hint of sound as the doorway _explodes_ with light. A blood-red whirlwind surrounds Keris, howling noiselessly at a pace to strip flesh from bone. Its teeth are mirrored silver knives, its claws are kaleidoscopic clouds of pollen. The burning green brand of the empty circle shines on Keris’s forehead, but it’s the least terrifying thing on her face in that moment; compared to the scorpion-braids curling up over her head or the snarl on her lips or the icy fury in her eyes. The doorframe disintegrates just from her proximity; blood-wind wearing it down as quickly as Eko’s touch, and fang-lined jaws shift under her skin.

The silent moment stretches out endlessly before Keris speaks; her voice an exception to the suffocating weight of nothingness.

“Get. Out.”

The neomah flee. Kuha scrambles upright.

“Not you. You stay.” A tattooed hand points at the benches beside the bath. “ _Sit_.”

Kuha - now-dark eyes wide, skin even paler, wings clutched in in fear - scrambles to obey. 

“I... shall just leave you to this?” Oula says, staring between Keris - with a hint of worry - and Kuha with obvious contempt.

“No,” Keris orders, clipped. “No, I think you can provide a useful perspective here. Let me tell you, Oula, about a conversation I had with Calesco only a little while ago. Just before we crossed the Desert. She told me she loved Kuha. That sharing her body had been intimate, and beautiful, and that they’d come to care about one another in the dreams they shared while she was there. She asked if I could summon her again when we were in the Southwest, perhaps anchored some other way so they weren’t stuck only sharing dreams. If I might find missions they could do together, since they could both fly and worked so well together.” She pauses for a long, terrible moment. “She was _happy_ , Oula. As happy as I’ve ever seen her. It’s rare for me to see her smile so much, or sound so cheerful.”

Throughout the speech, her eyes never leave Kuha.

“And now, I fear I’m going to have to break that happiness. Because I can’t imagine it will survive _this_. Kuha...” Her feelings well up in her throat, frustration and rage and disappointment and a shadow of heartbreak, enough that she almost can’t speak. She loves Kuha. The little owlrider is like another daughter to her. Ever since Keris saved her life, she’s been utterly loyal, absolutely steadfast. A betrayal like this...

Keris wants to _punish_ her. To _show_ her what she’s done, to make her _feel_ every bit of the pain she knows Calesco will as soon as she hears of this. Rot and ashes, Keris is almost hoping she already knows, that she was watching through the mirror so that Keris won’t have to look her in the eye when she explains this and see Calesco’s happiness crumple.

She knows from the inner silence that she’s not that lucky.

“ _Explain yourself_ ,” she hisses at last, fists clenching.

Kuha flinches back. “It’s... we were just,” she says a word in her native language. “Flight mates?” she tries. “It wasn’t marriage or year-claiming. It was like what men do when they’re out on a long hunting trip together, or women when they’re waiting for their husbands.” She seems genuinely confused at why Keris is furious. “I didn’t give her my vow.”

“Did _Calesco_ know that?” Keris presses. “Did you even _ask?_ She was living in your head, you _know_ how deeply she loves. It’s not something shallow for her. It’s all or nothing.” Kuha’s excuse makes her, if anything, even angrier. Telling Calesco that Kuha had never truly loved her at all might well break her. At minimum, Keris knows the Meadows will be near pitch-black for months to come. Does Kuha even _understand_ how much she’s hurt Calesco with this? If she doesn’t...

Something ugly stirs in Keris’s hindbrain.

If she doesn’t, Keris is going to _make her_.

Kuha squirms in place. “I thought... lots of people say ‘I love you’ and it doesn’t mean anything!” Her cheeks are flaming. “And that’s not fair! She didn’t say she wanted to get married or anything like that! I don’t want to!”

Piercing fury spikes as writhing scorpion-braids open jagged jaws, and Keris steps forward to-

... to...

To what?

((... holy shit, Keris. 2 successes on Temperance roll. Phew. I... am genuinely not sure what I was going to do if she’d failed that. But it would have been bad))

Ice floods her veins, and Keris’s hair falls limp as she looks - really _looks_ \- at the chain of her thinking over the last few moments. Looking down, she finds the curving blades of Ascending Air in her hands, vanishing again in flickers of bloody lightning as she regards them in horror.

What had she just been about to _do?_ She’d been thinking of... of _maiming_ the broken, built-back-up girl who all but worshipped her.

The unconscious inhalation draws in the scent of sex, triggering another instinctive spike of rage and _vengeful wrath she’ll teach her what it means to say lo-_

Keris’s gut turns over in another wash of horror.

Calesco. This is how Calesco loves. Wanting to hurt as much as help. To teach with the edge of a knife. Suddenly, Keris has a whole new appreciation for how much effort Calesco spends holding that side of herself back.

She squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to look at Kuha, still naked and stained by her activities. The silence in the bathroom is growing oppressive.

“I can’t... I can’t be around you right now,” she grits out. “I’m too angry.” Her hands ball into fists again. “I don’t want to do something I’ll regret when I calm down. Get out of my sight.” She takes a steadying breath and tries to _think_ through the haze of red. Think. Thinking is not something she can do well right now. What was it she’d said to Ney... right, anchors to keep her from drifting away. She needs someone who _can_ think rationally about this to check her judgement. Oula and Rathan are out; they’ll side with her. Calesco is Vali’s favourite sister. Dulmea... maybe, but she likely won’t appreciate the chaos this will throw half the Domain into.

“Talk... talk to Rounen,” she adds before Kuha can move. “Tell him he’s your... defence. For any decisions I make on this.” A brief motion of her hand - all she trusts herself with right now. “Go.”

Kuha scurries out, leaving Keris standing here, wreathed in a bonfire, with Oula lurking in the back of the room.

“Human affairs,” and Oula pauses deliberately with that word, “seem so complicated. No, the other thing. Stupid.” She smiles. “You could cut out her heart and give it to Calesco and see if that helps her be faithful.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Keris’s voice cracks like a whip, “say things like that. While I’m this angry. They’re too tempting.” Her hair writhes, snapping at furnishings, dragging barbed teeth along the floor, lashing out at the bathwater to send sprays of foam at the far wall. Keris doesn’t even bother trying to control them. Instead she focuses on _not moving_ , until Kuha is out of her hearing, and drops her head into her hands.

“I can’t...” she chokes out. “I’m going to have to tell Calesco this. I’m going to have to _watch_.”

A tear slips out, accompanied by a stab of knife-edged love so powerful it leaves hate a distant memory. Keris’s nails almost draw blood as her fists clench - from her right hand, at least.

“I can’t deal with this,” she hisses. “I can’t... stay controlled. I need... I need to...”

She bares her teeth, summons up all the rage and fury and love and pain and razored vengeance, and breathes _out_...

It’s a breath that seems to last an hour, and at the end of it Keris sags; her hair going limp and exhausted again. The anger is only in remission, she knows. It’ll come back if she dwells. It’ll certainly come back after talking to Calesco.

But for now she’s numb. And for Kuha, she feels...

... nothing.

((Using FLG to wipe out her Principle towards Kuha, as well as the temporary one of overwhelming rage that she gained this scene - she still has the ones like “I Love My Family”, so that’ll be renewed whenever she next dwells on how much this is going to hurt Calesco, but she’s numb about it for the moment and when it comes back it won’t have TLA-boosted “teaching/hurting” egging it on.))  
((Also probably intimidating Oula a bit and reminding her that when Aunty Keris is _this_ angry, you’re not necessarily safe just because you’re not in the line of fire, and that prodding that particular god-snake is not a good move.))

Oula flinches. “I’ll... uh, I’ll let you finish being on fire before you check the tattoo,” she says quickly. “Can I go in the water with it? I’d like to lie down without lying _on_ anything? Otherwise, um, I’ll just go to my room.”

Medical advice is a convenient distraction. “Use a fresh bath and clean it thoroughly,” Keris orders. “You can use any of the salves that don’t have a scent to them after you’ve washed it, but don’t bandage it up until I get there and have a look. I’m... calmer now. But I need to wait for my soul to die down.”

Oula nods, head bobbing up and down. “Uh... I can show you the shape-changing if you want me to, or maybe you’re busy,” she says.

“That would be good, yes,” Keris says tiredly. “And... I suppose while I wait, I might as well go and break the bad news. Tell the staff to clean and air this room on your way.”

She stalks out, finding another small bath more or less at random, strips quickly and plunges in, dread starting to pool in her belly again. Closing her eyes as the water embraces her, she slips into meditation, aiming for the border of the Meadows and the Ruin.

She can at least give herself a long walk to where Calesco usually spends her time, and work out what she’s going to say.

The world seems less... alive when her children aren’t there. The moon is dimmer; the Swamp burns less hot; the storms over the Spires are less violent. But the princess of the Meadows is here, in her gloomy realm of tar pits and rolling hills.

Keris passes a tar cherub village, with little low dwellings built into the hillsides. They’re more elaborate than Calesco’s cave, with earth and dirt piled up to turn the raw rocks into snug little holes, and Keris can see green light streaming from the windows of these hillside dwellings. They’re building another one right now, and tar cherubs with spades and trowels build up earth and clay around a wooden framework.

But there’s a new demon here - two massive horse-like creatures that would loom even over Haneyl’s farisyya. Their fur is dark and bristle-y, and they look out at the world with eight insectoid eyes. One’s pulling a giant load of Isles-clay up a hill on its own, while another is pulling a yoke that’s driving some kind of water-wheel-like mechanism that’s pumping tar out of a dip to drain the land.

When Keris asks one of the tar cherubs whether they’ve seen Calesco, she’s cheerfully told that she’s gone walking out by the mistwall.

((oh god it does just look like a halloween town version of hobbiton))  
((: D))

Thanking the little being - and wondering how Akhmi is doing with Ney - Keris sets out towards the edge of her little world, thoughts churning as she goes. How to bring it up? How to raise the issue? Does she just... come out with it in one go? Or ease Calesco into it somehow? How the _fuck_ is she even _meant_ to ease her daughter into this, anyway? What could she possibly say?

Keris isn’t sure if she’s ever been been to this part of Calesco’s land. This far from the moon, it’s gloomy even by the standards of the Meadows. Wisps of mist escaping the wall drift in front of the moon like clouds would, and the earth itself seems to drink up the light. It’s hot here, too, and the air is thin. The land is sinking down into tarry ooze, with only occasional hills, and strange dark insects buzz around her on feathered wings.

Cresting one of the small hills, Keris comes across a sight she’s never seen before. Calesco, wearing her red veil as a yem and a simple skirt, dances alone. She’s barefoot and her six wings are outspread, gleaming with white. Around her panther-like tar kats and other predators from the domain gather, watching her songless dance that shifts effortlessly from the ground to the sky.

Of course, Keris realises as she watches, it’s dark enough here that Calesco can remove most of her lies and dance for the predators who gather around her.

She looks so _happy_.

Keris opens her mouth to call out, and... can’t. She just can’t. She stands and watches, tears trickling down her face at the _unjustness_ of it, loving her daughter’s happiness and unable to take the first step of bringing it to an end.

Eventually the dance comes to an end, and Calesco drifts to the ground, folding her wings back behind her. She dotes over each of the kats in turn, hugging them and petting them. Only then does she notice her mother.

“Oh, mama!” she says brightly, blushing slightly. “H-how long were you there?”

“...” says Keris. “A... a while, baby.” She summons up a smile. “It was beautiful.”

Calesco beams. “It was?” She runs her hands down her front. “Look at me! Look how little I’m wearing! And my wings are white-tipped! I think I’m really getting better at controlling things, mama! Maybe if I keep at it, I can walk around some of my towns like this!”

“I hope so,” Keris whispers. “I really hope so.”

She takes a deep breath. Then another. Come on, she thinks. Woman up and tell her. “Baby... sweetheart. I... I have some bad news.”

“Oh?” Calesco sighs. “What has Big Sister done this time?”

“It’s not... it’s not about Eko,” Keris says. Another deep breath. “It’s... Kuha.”

“Oh no.” Calesco’s hands go to her mouth and her eyes flash. “What... who...”

“She’s not... hurt,” Keris says, hating herself a little for giving Calesco that little shot of hope before breaking her heart. “It’s not that kind of...” She trails off, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. “I... I was going to look at Oula’s tattoo, and... I found Kuha in one of the larger baths.”

There’s the tiniest of pauses as confusion starts to replace trepidation on Calesco’s face, before Keris finishes, all in one breath. “There were two neomah in it with her.”

“I don’t believe you!” That’s sharp, cutting, and instant.

“Sweetheart-”

“Why would she do that! She loves me! I love her!”

More than anything, Keris wants to not keep having this conversation. To not have to say the next part.

But she does anyway.

“She... she said that... that lots of people say ‘love’ without it... meaning anything. That she didn’t know you were serious. That she thought it was... flight mates. Something men do on a long hunting trip together, or...”

She’s not helping. One look at Calesco’s face tells her that much. “I didn’t hear much more. It was too much effort to not hurt her. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, _so_ sorry.” Kneeling down, she spreads her arms, inviting Calesco in for a hug.

Calesco _screams_ , a piercing bird-like cry.

Her wings fan out, snow-white.

The shadows tear off her form, and the darkest part of Keris’s domain knows light.

Pain lances into Keris. And she feels the entire agonising conversation go by again in the blink of an eye.

There’s a hint of red light in the blinding white. “Let me out, Keris,” Calesco says, voice almost a whisper. There’s the screaming of eagles and the yowling of cats behind her words. “I’m going to talk to her. Just talk. At length. She’s going to love me, or learn not to _play with my heart!_ ”

Reaching forward, blind from the agony, Keris seeks her daughter’s hand. “I can’t,” she whispers. “I can’t, Calesco, I know what _I_ almost did to her for hurting you. I know how hard it was for me to step back, I’m _sorry_ , baby, but I can’t let you hurt yourself like that.” Tears run down her cheeks, and the tear-tracks feel like knife wounds. “I can’t let you do something you’ll regret, and you _will_ regret it. You will _hate yourself_ for what you’ll do if I let you out now.”

“I gave her my everything!” Calesco screams. “She forgets me in ten days!?” Something splashes on Keris’s left hand; a teardrop that’s a knife hidden in tar. “I will harry her until she remembers her words of love! Until she remembers my kisses! Until I cut away the flaws that meant two _cheap neomah harlots_ could pull her away from me!”

“Calesco!”

Keris throws herself at the source of the screaming, judging blindly. Her hand glances off a wing, taking all the skin off her knuckles despite its steel-hard strength, and more wounds open up as Keris finds her torso and drags her into a hug, angling to avoid the wings, tucking her head into Keris’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she soothes, hair desperately drawing out a melody of grief and calm. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, I know, I’ve got you...”

“Let me out!” Calesco screams, thrashing, razor-sharp feathers scything through the air. “Don’t try to hug me into forgetting! I won’t forgive her! Not until she’s sorry!”

“Don’t forgive,” Keris throws back, “and don’t forget, but don’t act on your light alone, Calesco, baby, _please_. I’m not doing this for her! I’m doing this for _you_. Please, _please_ , call your shadows! And then I swear I will let go. I _swear_.”

“What, and _lie_ that I don’t mind?” Calesco slumps down, chest shaking, shoulders heaving. “I do mind! I mind! I _am_ love, Keris! That’s what you made me from! I... I... l-love her and she d-doesn’t love me back and she said she did and... and... and I’m going to hurt her for it! Now let me go, or I’ll hurt you too! Don’t y-you d-dare stop me!”

((2 sux on Compassion))

Keris closes her eyes, sucks in a pained sob...

... and lets go.

“I won’t let you out,” she whispers. “I won’t let you face her in person.” There’s blood running from... quite a lot of places. She makes the conscious effort not to tally how many, or see how badly she’s maimed her mental avatar on Calesco’s lethal true form. “But I’m doing that for you, not for her.”

“You’re going to let g-go of me and let me out,” Calesco whispers viciously. “Or I’ll start whispering what you did on the streets in Nexus. You’ll have to get away from me or you’ll hear. You’ll be r-reminded of what you did in those cold years after Rat vanished. What you had to do to survive. The things you deny to yourself.”

Calesco is hurting, and angry, and heartbroken. It’s her nature to speak cruelty to the strong, and right now she’s too distraught to stop herself. She doesn’t really mean what she just said. She needs comfort. She needs support. She needs her mother.

All these things, Keris knows. At least on the surface.

But it’s still too much. With a ragged gasp and a look of betrayal and pain, Keris’s grip on her avatar dissolves and her eyes snap open underwater, a despairing, anguished wail echoing in her mind behind her.

At least underwater, nobody can see you cry.

Warm arms wrap around her. It’s Rounen. “Ma’am,” he says, after lifting her out of the water. “Pardon me for interrupting, but I saw your distress in the motions of the cloud wall, and thought it best to ask if I can do anything for you.”

“Go...” Keris’s voice is hoarse, and she chokes on the word. “Go find Kuha. I need... I need you to be her... advocate. To stop me from hurting her. Which I might.” She shakes her head before he can ask for clarification. “I can’t right now. I just... I can’t. Please, Rounen.”

He simply nods. “As you wish, ma’am. Shall I order the house servants to do anything for you on my way? Food, companionship, the like?”

“No,” Keris sighs. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be... fine.”

“Yes ma’am.” Rounen clambers out of the bath, shaking himself down, and heads out of the room.

Taking a deep breath to get past the lump in her throat, Keris goes in search of Oula.

Oula is floating in the bath, ice bobbing around her. Her horns rise out of the water, shining silver in the light. She’s clearly had servants bring it in, because there’s empty buckets on the side. Her hair fans out around her, and there’s a gleam of mercury sitting on the bottom from where it’s run off her.

When she sees Keris, she looks up, waving with one wet pink lock. “Hi, Aunty,” she calls out. “Care to join me?”

Keris nods wordlessly and slips into the bath. She’s trembling faintly. Her eyes are red and raw. It’s too cold to be pleasant in here, but personal comfort doesn’t mean much to Keris right now.

Oula paddles over. “Don’t worry about me,” she says. “I would never do that. Even if some monster destroyed my heart, I’d try to hold onto love until I’d grant it back to him. But with some sharp words about not keeping it safe!”

That makes Keris’s lips twitch a little. “You’d skewer whoever broke it, though,” she whispers. “And I’d help.” She swallows, making her sore throat ache a little more. “Turn around and get your hair out of the way. Let me take a look at those tattoos.”

“If I wasn’t feeling so hurty, I’d show you some of what Lady Lilunu has taught me about acupuncture,” Oula says as she obeys. “You look like you could do with some stress bleeding off.”

“You can show me later,” Keris says as she runs light hair-roots over the very surface of the tattoo, probing the skin. It really is beautifully done. “Alright, I think I can at least reduce some of the swelling and discomfort here...”

With massage and careful treatment, Keris eases the pain and reduces the swelling. It’s nice to have something simple to do.

And once that’s done, Oula shows she can smooth down her legs into a silver-grey dolphin tail - everything below the hips. And that she could go higher up, but she doesn’t want to risk damaging her tattoos.

Smiling at Keris, Oula sits on the edge of the pool, brushing her hair, dolphin tail waving in the water. “This is nice,” she says.

“As soon as you’re healed, you’re showing me the whole thing,” Keris tells her. “I may put you in charge of some wave cherubs and send you scouting the seas around Saata. Or... hmm, how fast do you think you can swim? I remember having to escort some demjen not long after first coming to An Teng and it was... urgh. So slow.”

“Everyone is slow compared to you, Aunty,” Oula points out cheekily. Keris swats her.

“True, apart from Eko and Adami and anyaglos, but not what I was asking.”

“Probably only about as fast as a dolphin or one of Rathan’s orcas,” Oula hazards. “I think it’s more so I can swim down to the Undersea to collect mercury, or build things on the seabed. It doesn’t feel like it’s a speed thing.”

“Ah well,” Keris sighs. “Still useful, but I suppose I’ll have to put you and Rathan on the Baisha if I want you to get around with any real speed.”

“Uh huh!” Oula reaches down, and starts peeling off the dolphin skin covering her legs, revealing flesh underneath. “And it’s easy to change back.”

“Did you show Lilunu that trick?” Keris wants to know. “I bet she’d find it interesting.”

“She laughed when she saw it,” Oula admits. “She’s... she’s scary like you are when you’re on the edge of losing your temper, but she really is a good artist and knows a lot.”

Keris chuckles. “Lilunu isn’t scary. Well,” she corrects, remembering certain encounters in vivid detail, “she’s not scary when she’s doing art. If you want scary Lilunu, interrupt her when she’s sparring or look at her being queenly on the throne next to Ligier’s. Or be anywhere nearby when one of the All-Makers speaks through her. _That’s_ scary. Art-Lilunu is friendly and sweet.”

“I suppose,” Oula admits. “I’d rather stick to her as an artist. I think that’s about all I can handle.”

\---

Keris is antsy as they build the tower higher and higher, and around a day later, a whoomph of purple flame announces that it’s done.

She immediately meets with Xia, holding her mother’s yidak’s gem and with the other things stored in ice and carried by her servants. In this heat even the ice is melting quick.

“Is this everything? What of the hun soul?” asks Xia. There’s a fire in her eyes that wasn’t there before; they burn with the same light as her tower.

“Give me a few minutes with her,” Keris says. She’s already mixed the last breath of the High Queen of An Teng together with her own essence inside herself, for that last ingredient, and given it to Xia. It was such a small thing, but so precious. “To reassure her, and tell her it’s time.”

“Yeah, sure.” Xia claps her many hands together, trailing flame, and goes to examine the frozen blocks. “Did those terrestrials object to you taking their heads?” she asks, lifting one frozen head up that stares, mouth open, at her.

“Briefly,” is Keris’s only comment.

Then she retrieves Kerisa’s box, and holds her arms out for the little ghost as she trots up.

“Hello sweetheart,” she says gently, scooping her up in a hug. “It’s time. Are you nervous?”

She nods mutely, empty sockets staring up at Keris.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt at all, baby,” Keris whispers, squeezing her reassuringly and ignoring the way she feels. “You’re being reborn, you know. And birth hurts; it always does, whether it’s your first or your second. But I promise it won’t hurt like dying. This isn’t going to be taking your life away, Kerisa, it’s going to be giving it back.” She swallows harshly, stroking her hair and tucking it behind the little mask. “And I promise you, darling, when you’re alive again and I hold you in my arms, I am going to love you _so much_. And as soon as you’re big enough to walk, we can go travelling. Does that sound good?”

“And find my parents?” Kerisa asks, holding on tight with her bony hands.

“Yes, baby,” Keris murmurs, kissing the hard surface of her mask on the forehead. “Be brave just for now, and you’ll have your family back. I promise.”

Kerisa nods. And then she lifts up her hands, finding the corners of her mask, and pulls - hard.

There’s a crack, and most of her mask comes away. Not all of it. There’s traces stuck around the edge of it. But for the first time Keris can see her face - her eyeless sockets, the gap where her nose should be, the scraps of flesh hanging onto the waterlogged bone of her face. She has no lips, and a rotten chunk of meat is all she has of a tongue.

She looks up at Keris, shoulder half-raised as ready to flinch away.

For a long moment, Keris looks. She breathes out.

And then she gently kisses her on the forehead again, and pulls her into a hug.

“Be brave, my love,” she whispers. “I’ll be there to welcome you back, okay?”

Kerisa leans in, teeth pressed against Keris’s cheek in a lipless kiss. “Tell rat-eater boy that he better make sure my bones don’t get lost,” she says, voice quavering.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Keris promises. “You keep that stubbornness, okay? But promise not to be too much of a handful as a baby! I’m the one who’ll be looking after you.” She grins shakily, looking up at Xia over Kerisa’s shoulder.

“Be careful with her,” she says to the fleshforger. “She’s a very special little girl.”

“Of course, of course,” Xia says, not really looking as she admires the heads and the samples. Her eyes fall on the red-tinted black crystal of the po, and she sighs lustily. “So many souls to shave off,” she says. “Now, to work.” One of her servants hefts the cart under one arm. “I’ll take the ghost, and begin this great work,” she says.

Keris drops one last kiss onto Kerisa’s head, and pats her encouragingly towards Xia. “I know she’s a bit scary,” she whispers. “But she’s the very best for making sure your new body is strong and healthy and good. Be brave for me, and I’ll see you soon.”

Kerisa trails Xia into the great stone tower, and the colossal brass doors slam shut. 

Now all Keris has to do is wait.

“And you were never very good at that,” Dulmea observes from within her head.

The dragon on her arm nuzzles Keris, and pats her with a tiny claw.

“I’m going to see Lilunu,” Keris thinks. “Though... can you check on Calesco? I don’t think she’ll want to see me right now, but she needs a shoulder to cry on.”

Dulmea sighs. “She has ventured into the Edgelands, child,” she says. “I have seen the flashes of her conflicts with the serpent. But your lower soul guards the way out, and she cannot escape, Firusutu informs me. The serpent is more potent than her.” She pauses. “I will wait to see until she emerges from that place, and check if she needs me.”

“Thank you,” Keris breathes. “In that case... yeah. Art. I need some art. To distract me.”

Petting the little dragon on her arm - who still needs a name - she heads in roughly the direction of Lilunu’s art-cathedral.

When she finds Lilunu, she is dark haired and brooding. She sits atop a crystal spire, hugging her knees as she stares across her landscape-body. Shadows roil and boil in the landscape beneath her - shadows that should not exist under Ligier’s green light.

“... Lilunu?” Keris asks tentatively. “Are... are you alright?”

She looks at Keris, with jet black eyes. “Oh, Keris,” she says. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you have that appointment with Fleshcrafter Xia today?”

“Yes,” Keris says. “She’s, uh. Fleshforging now. Kerisa is in there with her. There’s nothing I can do but wait.” She sighs and shakes her head. “And Calesco is... miserable. Broken-hearted. Screaming and raging. So I can’t meditate to pass the time.”

Lilunu _flickers_ down to the ground, rising up from the unnatural shadows. “I am feeling... _trapped_ ,” she almost hisses, and then exhales. Some colour returns to her eyes, and her hair starts to shift, becoming less like liquid-blackness. “I was glad to hear nothing of you from Orabilis,” she says idly. “It is pleasing that you have not angered Hell’s Censor. And he-” she bites back what she was about to say. “I’ve been well, recently.” She looks at Keris’s arm, and at the dragon who’s rearing up out of it. “Making that little one has helped me, I think. I bled out a lot of power into her, and though it’s coming back slowly, until then I can relax more.”

Keris strokes the little black head fondly. “She does still need a name,” she comments. She has a nasty feeling that Orabilis may have done something to Antifasi - but she can’t ask that now, not with Lilunu in such a state. And while she’d quite like to meet her mentor’s other souls, that won’t be at all relaxing either. Hmm.

“It sounds like both of us need to blow off some steam,” she muses. “What do you think? Shall we find something we can do to get our problems off our minds for a while?”

Lilunu balls her hands into fists, eyes suddenly blazing bright green and hair a brilliant red once more. “Yes! I _can_ do that! I’m feeling better and I _am_ Unquestionable! I don’t have to spend my entire life in here! Not when I’m feeling well for once! You! You’re coming with me! And... well, not Zanara, but Oula too! We’re going out as girls! I still have an invite from Ipithymia she gave me as an _insult_ \- well, I’ll show her by taking it!”

This sudden rage, coming so quickly after the brooding sullenness, isn’t like her mentor.

Despite being taken aback, though, Keris isn’t going to _argue_ with Lilunu feeling confident and healthy and assured. And she can hardly argue with her tactic. “Sounds like fun,” she grins. “Say, did I ever tell you about when Orange Blossom invited me to her Sceptred Leaf for a meeting...”

Ah, stories. Some of them are such _fun_ to tell.

She tells Lilunu the story as they head to Keris’s townhouse, and collect the rather awed Oula. At Lilunu’s insistence, Keris dresses all three of them, and then she leads them to part of the central district. There’s an alleyway here, where a single pair of golden lanterns burn in front of a circular brass door.

Lilunu reaches out, and the door dissolves before she even touches it. It leads to an avenue that shouldn’t exist, that’s wider than the gap between the two buildings and goes on and on. There’s a sudden wall of noise as ten thousand vices make themselves known, and the music here is far louder and more discordant than the relatively soft melodies within the Conventicle.

And the light here is golden. It’s almost like being under Creation’s sun, which is so strange after the time she’s spent in Hell. It comes from endless lanterns, burning on buildings, floating in ornamental ponds, and carried by dancing masked figures on long poles.

“Ngghh...” Keris groans, wincing. “This isn’t music, it’s _noise_.” Her hair doubles up in buns over her ears, which makes things... slightly better. But only slightly. “Alright then, where first? Or will we be greeted?”

“I don’t know!” Lilunu says brightly, but with more than a little steel in her voice. “I’m looking to find out. Let’s see how long it takes Ipithymia to notice I’m here! Or anyone at all!”

She scans the horizon. “What looks like a good place for an absolutely _outrageous_ scream or two?” she asks.

((Reaction + Awareness for Keris, also this can allow her to shape the kind of place Lilunu goes to if you declare what you’re looking for, because... uh, she’s kind of naive and will accept Keris’s suggestions if she says it’s fun.))

Morosely, Keris removes the protective hair-buns - ow ow ow _loud_ \- and tries to sort through the ten thousand vices pouring into her ears. She breathes in the heavy, perfumed air, scans the shop fronts along the street, looks at the flow of the crowd.

There’s so _much_.

But... well, she can be smart about things. Sex is right out. Keris has absolutely no intention whatsoever of putting herself in a position to explain _that_ to Ligier. Anything too psychedelic might be risky given Lilunu’s stability, so best to limit the harder drugs. What, then, does that leave?

(5+5+2 Coadj+2 stunt=14. 7x2+4=18 sux.))  
((She’ll probably try to direct Lilunu to a bar/soft drugs place that deals in things like booze or pot or her old coco leaves - a minor high that makes you happy and floaty or pumped and energetic but doesn’t make you start seeing things on the walls or risk Lilunu losing control.))

There’s one place that catches Keris’s attention more than anything else - a towering structure of gilded wood, surrounded by a lake covered in lilies. It looks like one of the highest class places around here, and it also looks fantastically expensive - but as Keris sees it, it’s probably illegal to question an Unquestionable when they tell you they don’t have to pay their tab, right? 

Keris can hear the sound of dancers, the sound of gambling tables and certainly the sound of drinking. She figures it’s a high class casino with all kinds of entertainment within - and compared to some of the other things here, it’s got far less chance of her angering Ligier if she has to tell him she took Lilunu to an expensive casino place.

((not saying it’s basically the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, but it’s roughly that golden.))  
((Of course it’s not the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas. It’s on the Street of Golden Lanterns. :V))

“Well,” Keris says leadingly, dipping her head towards her target and replacing her earmuff hairbuns, “if we’re going for an _outrageous_ scream, we might as well start at the top, right? With drinks, dice...”

She grins.

“And _dancing_.”

“Lead on!” Lilunu says, eyes wide almost like a child. A much taller than Keris child.

“I think it’s a very good idea we’re not taking Rathan here,” Oula whispers to her as they cross the golden bridge leading to it. She’s looking narrow-eyed at the massive assortment of demons of all shapes, sizes, and amount of clothing worn. “His attention might... drift. And they’re staring at me.”

Indeed, even Oula is drawing attention here. Keris put her in a backless dress in palest pink that’s showing off the full glory of her rising red moon tattoo, and Keris has heard whispers wondering if she’s a once-mortal lover of Ululaya.

The armoured guards seem almost about to ask who Lilunu is, but then her sheer presence hits them and they fall to their faces before her. “What would be your delight today, Unquestionable ones?” they ask.

And it’s only while Lilunu is expanding on how she wants a table with a good view of dancers and plenty of drinks and other such things that it registers with Keris that they said ‘ones’. Which... well, isn’t going to be Oula.

She gulps. Oooo, that’s not good. Keris is going to be in big trouble if that spreads, she knows. But... shit, Lilunu is already being led away to a table, and if Keris buckles and backs down now by giving her true rank, it’ll be a sign of weakness that’ll throw her little group off its stride. Maybe even bring down Lilunu’s mood while she’s having such a good time.

Best to just... pretend she didn’t hear, Keris decides. And hope it was just a one-time mistake.

Fortunately, Lilunu at least seems to know the drinks and beverages of Hell enough, and shortly afterwards Oula, Keris and Lilunu each have tall thin glasses filled with bright pink - and fizzy - alcohol. 

They’re up on a balcony, looking over a great floor where barely clad male dancers dance-fight with swords and wild beasts are unleashed periodically into the colosseum-stage. All around them on this high vantage point are other tables, where demons gamble on the dance fights, drink, and play card and tile games.

A sinuous snake-demon approaches, dressed in the house colours. “Compliments of the house,” she says, bowing as she places a stack of golden and diamond tokens on the table before them. Examining them, Keris sees that the golden tokens are marked as one hundred thousand, while the diamond ones are one million. She’s not sure of _what_ denomination, but this is clearly a fortune given freely to them.

Keris flips one of the diamond tokens through her fingers, then flicks it up to be caught in a coil of her fringe, just above her left eye.

“What do you say, Lilunu? Fancy a game or two over drinks?” she grins.

Lilunu downs half her drink. “Sure!” she says, with a hiccup. “And then another one!”

The evening - if the term applies here - gets started.

((OK, in the first part of the evening, Keris consumes 3 doses of alcohol, and then has to roll Persuasion + Subterfuge for her success at gambling))  
((She has a Tolerance of at least 4 doses per week, so even if that’s booze that can affect her, she’s still going strong.))  
((As for the gambling...))

This place is rich, Keris quickly learns. Like, _super_ rich. Offensively rich. The same stirrings of envy build up in her gut as she’d felt when she surveyed the naib’s domain, and her eyes narrow. Oh yes. She’s going to take this place for all they’re worth.

Not that she’s going to _cheat_ , of course. Hells forbid. But _leveraging her advantages_ ; that she has no shame in doing. By which she means abusing her excellent hearing to track microtics in her opponents at cards, along with the pretty social petals of Zanara that mask her true intentions. And performing the odd sleight-of-hand trick to get the dice to go where she wants them to. And making full use of her ability to tell perfect truths and make lies of them.

And everywhere she goes, she can feel the mix of pride and envy that lingers over this place like a silvery sheen.

((Keris is using Envious Heart on Ipithymia for her vast wealth and lavish palaces, with the full intention of WINNING BIG YO (meaning all her stunts in that direction are +1). Which, uh. Means she ignores all Poison penalties for this scene even from the stuff that does affect her and which gets through her base Tolerance. She’s also turning on Wan Washed-Out Faces and Flowering the Fairer Face for the duration of the girl’s night.  
4+5+3 {mixture of Mendaciloquent Maverick and Light-Handed Larcenist}+3 stunt+9 Metagaos ExD {cunning, insidious influence, ruthless acquisitions}=24. 11 successes. Keris is very unfair and wins big. : D))

Keris’s pile of chips grows and grows. What’s better yet is that the house notices this, and starts buying her drinks for free. Unfortunately for them, they’re mostly buying her expensive wines made of grapes imported all the way from Creation, which is to say their attempts at false generosity are backfiring. Keris isn’t a lightweight, and it’s only the drinks distilled from stone or flesh that are even having any impact. By her third big win and fourth glass of wine, she's grinning self-satisfiedly at the mutters she can hear from them and enjoying every horrified face the dealers and croupiers make. It feels _fantastic_ , gouging the high society of Hell for all they're worth. Every win settles like a shot of smug superiority in her stomach, and she's probably more drunk on that feeling than the booze. She's surrounded by wealthy, powerful people here - they're proud of their money, of their lands and influence, of their skill at arms and such things. The envy from the ones who've noticed her winning streak is as good as sex. Oula is a chiming bell among the clamour, because Keris can hear her smug possessiveness over Rathan. It's cute and mortifying at the same time.

And it's strange to hear that yes, Lilunu doesn't care about such things. It's her art that she loves, and even among such fortunes she doesn't give them much thought.

Of course, Keris isn't the only one who's gambling. Oula is... well, put it this way, she’s playing very conservatively with the lesser number of chips that Lilunu gave her at the tile tables. She’s not really winning or losing, but the fact she’s holding her own is really something. But now she’s moved onto the gateway boards, and she’s just won big. Keris feels a burst of wicked pride for her victory - as well as for how the diamond chips she won all immediately vanished into her pockets.

Lilunu is less fortunate. Which is to say, the last Keris heard from her was a “What do you mean, he had five Empresses!” and now she’s sitting at their table, pouting, drinking something that smells eye-wateringly sharply of pineapples.

Keris has learned something very important today. Lilunu is bad at counting cards. And has obvious tells.

Then there’s a clatter of dice, and a moan which even drowns out Lilunu’s sulk. Keris’s ears perk up at that smooth sound that smells of envy and endless seething frustration. It feels like a _rival_.

((E9, Szorenic essence))

Keris meets the eyes of this Unquestionable, whose eyes run endlessly with mercury. There are house servants here, constantly mopping it up. She has the bearing of a noblewoman of the South, but her once fine clothes are tattered and stained by both blood and her own mercury. She wears a bindi on her forehead - an adder’s eye. A fine staff sits by her, with snakes coiling over it - and the same snakes crawl from the wilted red flowers in her hair. As well as her staff, she also has two sheathed long blades resting by her.

And of course, her table is high with empty drinks, and rather lower with tokens.

“... tell you what, Lilunu,” Keris says, not shifting her gaze. “How about I lend you some of mine, since I’ve been having a lucky streak. And since you’re not the only Unquestionable at the table...”

She bows slightly to her equal in strength and superior in rank, searching her memory for the demoness’s name. “Maybe I could offer you the opportunity to relieve me of some of my winnings, my lady? And refill your glass, of course.”

“Oh, it’s Yuula,” Lilunu says, sounding somewhat tipsy. “She’s the... what’s the word. Thingie. The thingie of Szoreny.” She bursts into giggles. “Better not let her sit with Oula, because they both leave mercury all over the place and their names are almost the same!” 

Yes. She’s definitely tipsy to find that that funny.

Keris smiles, assessing Yuula’s mood and hoping that didn’t annoy her too much. A fight between two Unquestionable - even if Lilunu _is_ the stronger and has Keris on her side - would be very bad right now.

((Using FtFF and WWOF on her to judge whether she envies Keris, what she expects from her, what she takes pride in, etc. That’s, uh, read motives and also a basic perception roll - remind me of the ability for the first?))  
((Incidentally, FtFF is telling Keris she’s expected by the social rules here to be a high-spending decadent vice-driven member of the demonic elite, spending freely and indulging in whatever pleases her, dressed finely))  
((Sweet. She has... honestly, she has won enough that she is probably entirely happy with spending a fair amount of it on the house and other patrons like Yuula and the occasional random 1CD server who gets a diamond chip tucked behind their ear or into a pocket.))

Yuula is interesting. She doesn’t envy Keris, but Keris can see her overweening pride in her medical skills in those fine fingers and those countless wilted red blossoms in her hair. Yes, just one of those was what Hermione had her eat to learn her medical skills, but Yuula has countless of them.

((No envy, Occult 5 and countless level 3 medical styles))

And ah, she expects Keris to beg and plead for medical help of some form. And no doubt she’ll be offended and not want to pay the price she demands, but no doubt she’ll give in. Everyone always does.

Instead, Keris smiles and flicks a diamond chip onto the plate of a passing server, redirecting the drinks he’s carrying over to them. “So, what do you say? Feel like a friendly game to restock your chips?”

“Hmm.” Yuula’s voice is deep for a woman, and not as sweet as it could be - it sounds worn by hard-drinking. “Lilunu - and one of your pets. I didn’t expect to see you out and about.”

“I was bored!” Lilunu says, downing her drink. “I hardly ever get to go out, and I have Keris to keep me company!” She wraps one arm around Keris’s shoulders. “She’s a good friend! Always always a good friend! She brings me pretty things from Creation and is always nice and never ever shouts at me! Much nicer than some people who are really mean! It’s horrible how people are mean! In fact, it’s... whatdoesshesay... it’s ugly! Yeah! I like that! It’s ugly to be mean!”

Yuula gives Lilunu a short and patronising look, then turns her attention to Keris. “Keris, hmm. No, no friendly games. Let’s play properly. You’ve certainly won enough tonight. But I’ll defeat you!”

“Alms for the Silver Forest! Gifts for the Ten Thousand Reflections Prince,” cry out the snakes that crawl from her hair.

“Shut up!” She shouts at the waiters to bring more drinks for her snakes. “Come over and sit with me, if we’re going to do this,” Yuula says, cracking her knuckles.

As she does this, Keris sees long scars down the back of her arms.

Keris cracks her knuckles as a hair-tendril loops around Lilunu’s shoulders and hugs her back. “Alright,” she agrees. Even she has to admit that she’s won enough for one night. Even _Haneyl_ would probably be satisfied by the amount she’s won tonight. “A real game. Lilunu, come give me some support for good luck?”

Lilunu agrees, and trails over behind Keris, who sits herself in front of Yuula.

“Of course,” Yuula says, offering a hand forwards. She’s wearing adamant bracers - no, those are adamant cuffs, the chains still attached. “I can see how your body works. You’re winning big because you’ve got my mercury in you - and your body is tearing apart the fermented fruit before it ever hits your bloodstream. So if you want to play with me, you’re matching me drink for drink. Of my choice.”

Keris raises a finger. “I’m winning big because I’m _really good_ ,” she protests. “But... yes, the fact that the drinks here don’t work on me is also helping.” She sighs. “I should’ve known you’d spot that. Alright! Drink for drink it is! My tolerance was already pretty good before I learned these gifts, and I’m good enough to play even when I’m drunk!”

Famous last words.


	8. Chapter 8

Keris wakes with a pounding pain behind her eyes. Her mouth tastes like something crawled into it, threw up, and then died. The green light overhead hurts.

Blearily, she pushes up with her hair. There is the sound of someone being noisily sick, as well as bright rainbow light. As she focusses on the world around her, she realises that they are in fact the same thing.

Unquestionable Lilunu, the Conventicle Malfeascent; Voice of the Yozis, Speaker of the Althing and lover of the Green Sun, is throwing up in an alleyway. It comes out as a glowing rainbow of liquids. Oula is there with her, holding back her hair.

“I want to die,” Lilunu moans, as she slumps down, holding her head.

“No you don’t, my lady - uh, not that I’m questioning you,” says Oula quickly. “Please don’t say I am. It’s just a hangover. I’ve had them when Kuha,” she says the name like it’s an unpleasant thing, “tried to get me drunk.”

“Not like this,” she moans.

Keris, for her part, isn’t entirely sure what happened last night. Or last scream. Or, come to think of it, how long she was out. 

Urgh. Ow. She hasn’t been this drunk in a long time. She remembers... she remembers Yuula making her match her drink for drink, and some of those things were... well, they burned as they went down. 

... also, if she remembers rightly, at some point Yuula insisted on doing shots of Yozi venom. She can’t be remembering that right, can she? Maybe that was the chalcanth speaking.

“Uh... hi, Aunty,” Oula says, awkwardly. “Um. Good morning.”

“‘Lo, Keris,” Lilunu mumbles. “An’ Iris too.”

Leveraging herself further upright and looping a... leg? No, that’s an arm - looping an arm around a convenient pole, Keris makes a noise that comes out sounding something like “gwzvugfgh” and gags at the taste in her mouth. Her superhuman sense of taste is punishing for something right now. She’s sure of it.

“Whhpnd wr’rwe?” she slurs, eventually managing to prop herself fully upright on five hair tendrils, the arm and another limb that’s almost certainly a leg. “‘Z’ula?”

Oula seems the most aware and, uh, sober here. “Yes, Aunty? Are you back with us? Able to talk?” She shakes her head. “You drank nearly half the Sea! No wonder you’re Haneyl’s mother!”

There is something of the cutting tongue that Oula unleashes in that.

“‘d’I win?” Keris wonders aloud, swaying. “Was... was drambling. Plinkin’?” She blinks slowly, pouting at how words are being all hard. “Gam-bell-ing,” she enunciates carefully. “I won, right?”

“Uh.” Oula licks her lips. “That’s... uh, sort of complicated. How much do you remember, Aunty?”

The dragon tattoo on Keris’s arm rears up, and bites her on the nose. It doesn’t break the skin, but it still stings.

“No! Bad Iris,” Lilunu chides, holding her head in her hands. Her eyes are very dim as she sits here, and she sees to almost be systematically shifting through Yozi-colours for her hairs. Maybe she’s hoping that something that’ll cure her hangover shows up. “No biting the Keris. Bad girl.”

“‘ris?” Keris asks, looking around for who they’re talking about. A sluggish, battle-scarred neuron retains enough strength to fire, and she looks down at her tattoo. “Oh. Your’is?”

The dragon tattoo - Iris - nods, holding up the tiny fireball of mixed Yozi essence before Keris’s eyes.

“While you were playin’,” Lilunu explains. “She was sitting in my lap. I was feeding her things. And trying to think up a name. I... don’ really remember how it came to me, but... but irises are ver’ pretty flowers and it sounds like Keris and so you can be Keris and Iris together! And I...” she winces, “I think I sung a song about it?”

Keris’s face screws up in concentration as she consults her memories for that. Lilunu singing is good, she knows, so that should be something she didn’t miss. Unfortunately, her memories are mostly a chaotic mishmash of sounds and tastes tinted by crazed colours and textures. Even trying to sort through them gives her a - uh, _more_ of a headache.

“Mmmmaybe?” she groans. “Urgh. Where... are we? Ip... Ipth... Ipi...” She gives up. “Thingie?”

“We’re still in the Street of Golden Lanterns, yes,” Oula says, with a quiet smirk. “After you finished gambling with Lady Yuula, you and Lady Lilunu pulled me away from my Gateway game and told me that the two of you have decided that you had to tell the Street herself that her decorations were tacky and not very beautiful and you two could do things a - and I quote - a million billion times better.”

“Oh no,” Lilunu says, fear flashing across her face. “What... what did we...”

“So,” Oula continues pitilessly, “I realised that the two of you couldn’t be trusted, and because I care for both of you I instead told you that the way to where she was was a bar a few streets over and that she’d appear if you just drank enough. We are now in the alleyway outside the bar.” Oula almost purrs. “What would you do without me?”

Keris - after two attempts that get progressively closer - pokes her in the nose. “Don’ get cocky,” she cautions. “But yeah. Goo’ work. An... yeah, the gam’lin’.” A memory bubbles to the surface and pops, making her frown at the newly-named Iris. “You kept tryin’ta eat my cards,” she accuses. “With your li’l teeth.” A hair tendril forms jaws and makes demonstrative snapping motions.

Iris considers the hair tendril pointed at her and its snapping teeth, and bites it. 

“No!” Lilunu chides. “Sorr’, Keris. She’s such a badly behaved dragon. I’d nev’r act like that!” She considers that. “If I was a tattoo, I mean.”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Aunty?” Oula asks.

Keris squeezes her eyes shut and gives the question serious consideration. A moment of intense thought passes, then another, as she devotes all her acumen to devising an answer.

“Waking up,” she declares authoritatively, “in this alley.”

“All right,” Oula sighs. “I see this is how things are going to go. So, things started going downhill when you started gambling - and drinking - with Lady Yuula...”

\---

((OK, so this is how things are going to go. As it stands, Keris has 7 tokens. They don’t directly link to a Resources value, but suffice to say, they’re about equal to 1 background dot. Additionally, she can offer favours, which are themselves worth 1 dot. They’re of the scale of a personal mission from Keris. Each round of gambling is basically a scene of high stakes games of one kind or another. As each scene passes, both Keris and Yuula take escalating penalties of Yuula’s choice from poison. For each round, Keris has to bet a minimum of 1 Token, and Yuula sets the maximum bid per round. The first round is tile games, so the dice pool is Reaction + Subterfuge, and the maximum bet is 3. Each degree of success over your opponent wins one of their bet, up to the maximum.))  
((What is Keris’s bet, as part of a stunted round of gambling?))  
((2 tokens, since she’s feeling confident and has been doing offensively well at the tables so far.))

Yuula had sat there, and cracked her knuckles, mercury running down her face from her eyes. “Minimum bet one million, and we’re playing Mahouyu,” she'd said, then threw back a drink. “Drink.”

Keris knew this one - she'd learned it before. It’s all about matching certain Yozi-marked tiles together, and getting points for it. Of course, the opponent’s tiles are hidden, and even if they weren’t she’d rely on the luck of the draw.

Still, she could read her opponent - and listen for the differences between the carvings in the tiles. Knocking back a shot of her own that fizzed and popped in her throat as it goes down, Keris had shaken back her hair and drawn her first tile, dancing it between her fingers without ever letting it turn to where Yuula could see its face. The empty circle had burnt on her brow in the King’s colours as she’d met Yuula’s mercury-weeping eyes.

“Wish me luck,” she’d tossed back over her shoulder to Lilunu as they’d started play.

((5+5+3 Light-Fingered Larcenist for sleight of hand+3 stunt+10 Metagaos ExD=26. 10 sux.))  
((Yuula - 20 dice, 11 successes - wins 1 token off Keris. Keris now has 6 tokens.))

That round hadn’t gone well. A bad initial draw had screwed Keris over, and there really wasn’t anything she could do with that. She’d lost some of her precious diamond tokens, which had vanished into Yuula’s pockets as her snakes cried out about alms for Szoreny.

“I like this game,” Yuula had said. “Let’s play that again. And drink.” She'd pushed forwards something bright green and fizzing - metody chalcanth - and downed her own one, thumping the table hard. “Yea-ouch! That burns!”

((Same Att + Ability, same 2 token bid. Keris and Yuula are now at -2 of their pools.))  
((Drat.))

Keris had pouted, but pushed her chips forward nonetheless, planning on reversing her loss of fortune. This time it had been personal - she’d barely lost anything until that point, so getting her money back with interest was a matter of _pride_.

And she’d made sure to threaten the deck before drawing, just to make sure it didn’t spite her again.

((5+5+3 Light-Fingered Larcenist for sleight of hand+3 stunt+10 Metagaos ExD-2=24. Uh, 10 sux again. Dangit, I’m batting under-par for the level of effort I’m putting in.))  
((7 successes for her. Keris wins two tokens, bringing her up to 8 tokens total.))

Yuula’s smirk turned into a frown and then a sulk as Keris cleaned her out from her bid. The tingling, burning chalcanth seemed to be hitting her harder than it did Keris, and by the time those rounds were done, Keris had won everything back - and then some.

“Again. Higher stakes. And drink.” Something almost metallic, like liquid brass. Something she’d said during the next round registered with Keris.

“What are you after? What do you want? What do _you_ get, oh Exalt?”

((Keris and her are now both on -4, and the minimum bid is 2 and the maximum is 4. Yuula gets... 5 successes.))  
((Bidding 4 tokens, lol. 5+5+3 LFL+3 stunt+10 Metagaos-4=22. 11 successes! Hah! Beat her by _6_. Yay for a 12 token fortune!))

Keris had given her best grin, swirling the... whatever it was in its glass. “Well, at the moment I’ll settle for all the tokens I can carry,” she’d teased. “I haven’t decided what to change them for, yet. The game’s the fun part.”

She’d been feeling the alcohol by that point. Enough that the far side of the room was blurry and every light had turned into a coruscating halo. But it hadn’t been enough to affect her play. Not nearly enough. Yuula’s strategy of getting them both hammered had backfired as Keris’s miraculous, battle-hardened body coped with the toxins better than the demon princess’s own - and since Keris had put half of her entire fortune forward as her bid, that meant she'd won _big_.

At that point, Yuula had uh... doubled down. Both on the drinks and the bets.

“All right!” she'd roared. “Yozi venom! For both of us!” She'd slammed one hand into the table, nearly knocking over Keris’s pile of chips, then dug into her cleavage and pulled out a bag on the end of a necklace. From it, she'd produced and slammed down a handful of chips that were more than valuable diamond; elegant, perfectly carved cinnabar with her own seal on them. “One hand!” And then she'd reached out, and tossed one of her swords onto the table. “And I’ll see you matched!” she'd announced.

Terrified demons had carried two smoking goblets made of adamant to the table, holding them with tongs. The air had sizzled above them.

((This will put her and Keris at -8, and she’s putting a flat bid of 15. Also, Reaction + Occult from Keris, as a diagnosis roll, taking account of her current penalty.))  
((urk))  
((yuula wat r u doin))  
((reacting badly to how badly she rolled last time. also she’s drunk and tsunade))  
((lawl))  
((5+5+2 Coadj+2 stunt-4+4 Envious Heart autosux since Keris is studying a wealthy patron of this place she envies=10. 6+4=10 sux.))

Keris had given the Unquestionable a perturbed and rather distressed look over the top of her token mountain and seriously questioned what Yuula was doing. She’d already been losing, and Yozi Venom was no joke.

A searching look and some quiet medical judgement had cleared that little mystery right up, and convinced Keris to take stock of her own condition as well. She might not have noticed without the envious glinting of her eyes, but she’d seen the bulge of dark mercury in Yuula’s veins. That... that cheat! She’d been trying for a desperate double or nothing, and doping herself with mercury!

And it’d be against the laws of Hell to call an Unquestionable out for cheating at the card tables, because she could just have been like “Are you questioning me?”.

Well, _two_ could play at that game, she’d decided. Yuula wasn’t the only one who could dope herself up with mercury. Keris had barely had to focus on how skilled the healer was with her quicksilver remedies and miraculous surgical skills for the burning hot boil of envy to settle in her stomach. And with it had come clear-headedness, bright and swift and fierce as she’d raised the steaming, acrid goblet to her lips and drunk.

((Keris is Envying Yuula specifically for the medical genius that lets her do this so casually, and the amazing stores of knowledge she has. Envious Heart is an Accumulation Charm, so Keris ignores all Poison penalties for the rest of the scene (again) - and can additionally say that she’s following the rules Yuula has set by example. : P))  
((Incidentally, Keris is on 12 tokens at the moment, so if she loses this she owes a 3 dot background or three favours.))

The cards were shuffled again by the dealer. The very, very drunk Lilunu clung onto Keris’s shoulder, too far gone to protest at her drinking Yozi Venom, with Keris’s dragon-tattoo in her lap eating a strip of jerky.

And they played.

((Reaction + Subterfuge, winner wins the whole pot, reroll if draw.))  
((Gulp.))

But Keris had gone into this round with something extra in her corner. She could read her opponent better. Mercury glinted in her eyes, her thoughts ran like quicksilver. She’d been able to follow every tick and thought as Yuula looked at her hand - even better than usual.

And Keris was never been one to waste an advantage over an opponent.

((5+5+3 LFL+3 stunt+10 Metagaos ExD+4 “Possessive Greed” Principle channel+4 Envious Heart autosux=30 dice, jesus. Keris going ALL IN on this one. 13+4=17 sux.))  
((Yuula - base pool 22, channeling her Urge “Gather Alms for Szoreny” for +5, 3 dot stunt for being a ludicrously escalatory bitch. ;p Pool of 30.))  
((Drumroll please.))  
  
((15 successes.))  
(( ** _YES!_** ))  
((also holy shit that was close))

And in the end, Keris had a bad hand, but Yuula had a worse one.

She’d been left staring at her two priests, beaten by Keris’s two princes. Her left eye twitched, the flow of mercury from it even more intense.

“Okay, okay,” she’d said, grabbing Keris’s wrist before she could take the tokens - and the sword. “So... let’s talk about this.” Her hands had balled into fists.

Even an Unquestionable couldn’t casually lose this much, it had seemed.

((... wait, the whole pot. Keris had 12. Yuula bet 15. That’s... 27 tokens. _Makers_ , Keris.))  
((That’s... what, a Backing 5 empire with a 5-dot manse as her capital, a Followers 5 demonic army, Resources 7 in taxes from its serfs and, hell, throw in a 5-dot citizen Retainer to run the place for her.))  
((Literally a decent-sized Hellish empire.))

Keris had very, very nearly shaken her hand off and grabbed everything. The little part of her that the absent Haneyl usually voiced had been screaming at her to do it. The smug, self-satisfied envy in her system had been crooning with sweet, supercilious schadenfreude at how _much_ she'd just taken the Weeping Handmaiden for; at the thinly veiled panic on the face of the Unquestionable across from her.

But she’d stayed the impulse - barely - and drawn her hand back with a cinnabar-sweet smile.

“Of course,” she’d said, trying to be as gracious as possible in victory over a drunken demon princess with a temper. The smugness in her tone and the repeated twitch of Yuula's eye suggested that she hadn't been entirely successful. “I’m always happy to talk.”

“The cards... were on your side. And you’re a shameless cheat.” She raised one hand. “Not saying I’m not, just... raising it.” She took a deep breath. “What about we... rewind a little bit? I would be very grateful...”

Keris’s hackles had settled from the mention of cheating, and she’d tilted her head cautiously. “A hand _is_ a hand,” she’d pointed out, the quicksilver thrill of her glorious victory almost sexual in how good it felt. “I understand that losing this much would be... complicated. But I did win it, and I don’t want to just forget that I did. Maybe we could settle it some other way?”

“You... you have to have something you want,” Yuula had tried. “Something more than just money, or... or my sword.” The broken adamant chains around her wrists had jangled at even the thought of that. “Something that a good word from me in the councils of,” she lowered her voice, “of the demon princes might get you, yes?”

Keris’s eyes had gone very wide at that, and even Lilunu had noticed the instinctive flinch and pan around for any Eyes of Orabilis. There had been none, of course. The agents of the End of All Wisdom weren’t really ones for gambling.

“... _if_ someone were to offer something like that to... a different person very much like me,” she’d hedged cautiously, “then that person would probably be very, very interested in an offer like that.”

She’d run a rough estimate of the value of such a service via her sixth sense, not quite trusting her judgement even with the mercury blunting the alcohol’s edge, and had boggled at what she’d got back.

“Enough to rebalance the pot between... her, and the person who offered,” she’d added. “Maybe even tilt it in their favour a bit. Uh... hypothetically. And, um... of course, I’d always be interested in lessons. I’m a healer, but I’m nothing next to your skill, my lady.”

((PoEU used on that offer, just to lol at how many tokens/background dots it’d be worth.))  
((I’m guessing, like, more than half of the 27 tokens Keris has accumulated, if not most of them - though a 3-dot Mentor rating left over would be very satisfactory~))  
((POEU says she considers it worth 15 - ie, she’s just basically willing to sell those services to roll back the big mistake she made))  
((Niiiiice. Which, heh, matches with what Keris said - rebalance the pot of 27 to 12/15; slightly in Yuula’s favour. Though she’s willing to go 9/18 and end the game there if it gets her that Mentor rating.))  
((Well, she’s probably not willing to offer that, but she’d offer 2 dot mentoring))  
((Awesome, will do! And that leaves me 10 dots worth to pay off my debt with the Shashalme, get a good DB Retainer and retain some funds to take back to Saata.))

\---

“And that’s about what happened,” Oula says, with a shrug. “You came to some kind of deal - I didn’t hear what exactly - and didn’t keep her sword or all her money, but you still have a literal fortune waiting for you back at the casino. I mean, more than me. All I won was someone’s weapon, their coat, and all the money they had on them.”

Lilunu groans. “How much did I lose?” she asks tentatively.

“All the money they gave you, and more on top of it,” Oula says with a little more cheerfulness than is perhaps appropriate.

Letting her flawless face sink into her hands, Lilunu gently bashes her head into the wall. “This is the last time I go gambling with you two,” she moans. “You two are horrible card sharks! I can’t keep up with you! How do you do it!?”

“Eh,” Keris shrugs. “C’mpared t’Nexus, this place s’easy. Gamblin’ was how I survived back there, sometimes.”

She shivers, as some of the other things she’d done to survive surface. It’s harder than it usually is to force such ugly thoughts back down, after Calesco dragged some of them up and into the light so cruelly.

“Wasn’ gambling for diamond chips’n’magic swords then,” she mumbles, massaging her temples. “Bu’ ‘nuff food t’last th’month seems just as val... valul...” She hesitates. “Big,” she hazards after a moment’s thought. “When s’life or death to have somethin’t’eat.”

Another reflective pause. “Also, Nexans knife you if they catch you cheating,” she adds. “Or think you might be cheating. Or’f someone ‘cuses you of cheatin’. So there’s that.”

((Poor Keris. She doesn’t really want to think that this is what killed Rat, but it did.))

Oula simply smiles serenely. “I think she mistook what kind of demon I was. And thought I was some courtesan demon out gambling away my earnings and I’d be an easy mark.” There is a vicious edge to her serenity. “I took even her clothes. Aunty, you’ll need to adjust them for me a bit - she was a lot taller than me. But they’re my trophy now.”

Something that’s almost certainly probably maybe a hand emerges from the hair-ball and gives her a thumbs up.

“Now, come on, let’s leave this stinking - and Zanaran,” Oula says, glancing at the glowing rainbow vomit, “alleyway.”

Keris finds her eyes bulging as she counts up her winnings. Even beyond... what she got from Yuula, she’s richer than she’s ever been before. This is... this is ludicrous wealth. This is enough wealth to buy merchant princes in Nexus. Won in a single night at a demon casino, gambling with free money they gave Lilunu as her opening.

She shivers. It’s almost... too much money. Sitting there, in its hellish denominations. With the casino providing its own demon helpers just to help her carry it back to the All-Thing. She could easily fill even her biggest bath with it, and swim in it. 

And then... what?

She turns, to see where Oula has got to, and sees her protege behind her, dragging a heavy bag that clings, with a vicious black iron reaver daiklaive over her back, and with an oversized suit of demon armour made of bone and horn being dragged by one of the casino staff.

Keris raises an eyebrow. “You know, when you said ‘clothes’...” she says, grateful for a brief reprieve from the actually kind of unsettling question of what she’s going to _do_ with all this money. “I was expecting more... fabric.”

“Well, it was all she was wearing,” Oula says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not much good as armour. Not like yours, Aunty! She was twice my height and maybe she didn’t have enough bone to cover up her midriff or her cleavage.”

That gets an eyeroll. “Armour should cover all your vital organs,” Keris opines. “That’s why it’s called armour. Because it armours you. If it leaves your stabbable fleshy bits exposed, you deserve to get stabbed.”

“And that’s why I called it clothing,” Oula says with a nod. “Well, I might be able to make something useful of it. Or maybe trade it to Vali in return for actually working armour.”

And so, collecting the still heavily hung-over Lilunu - who’s suffering much more than Keris is, even after Keris made her drink fruit juice to try to rehydrate her - the three women head back home.

Lilunu quite deliberately remakes the door to the Street of Golden Lanterns within the Conventicle, and additionally makes the walls next to it slump so no one can pull it open.

“I think we’ve all learned that alcohol consumed in quantities like that is the work of demons,” she says firmly.

Keris grins. She’s recovered somewhat, though her whole body is still sending her insistent messages that she’s made many, many mistakes in her choice of things to put in it.

“You had fun, though,” she teases. “Not the hangover, and maybe not the losing at cards - I can teach you some tricks there, if you want - but the getting out and doing something new for a night. We can try this again sometime; with a safer activity. Riding, maybe.”

Lilunu stares at Keris blearily. “Done that with Ligier. He likes that,” she says. Oula bursts into fits of giggles, and Lilunu just looks confused.

“You hush,” Keris directs at her protege, poking her with a hair tendril. “Come on then, milady. Let’s get you back to the heart of yourself so you can sleep it off. I’ve got some pretty good alchemical hangover cures, though... uh, I dunno if they’ll work on you. Worth a shot, at least.”

Their attempt to move on is somewhat arrested by a ballistic Zana, who storms up to them, hair flapping around her. She looks furious.

“And what do you think you were doing, going out without me?” she demands, arms crossed, glaring at them with one pink eye and one orange.

Lilunu groans. “Her voice is like shouting,” she moans.

“Why do you have all that stuff? What were you doing? You left me all alone! I had to look after the babies - well, okay, a lesser Keris did that, but I _spiritually_ had to look after the babies and you look like you had fun so I should’ve come!”

((Zanara went into Keris to get away from Orabilis - or are we saying Keris let her back out offscreen? Or, uh, she just escaped again because Keris isn’t guarding the border against her.))  
((Yeah, I assumed she escaped again because she basically feels this is a safe place for Zanara and she makes Lilunu happy.))  
((Cool.))

“We, uh... went gambling,” Keris defends. “Lilunu wanted a girl’s night out. And I sort of maybe wound up in a high-stakes game with Unquestionable Yuula and... well, at one point the pot had one of her swords in it. Along with enough tokens to buy a medium-sized Hellish empire. And when I say ‘the pot’, I actually mean ‘my winnings’, because I beat her on that hand. I, uh, didn’t hold onto all of those winnings, but I still won...”

She turns and surveys the carts of her accumulated treasure. Then turns back to Zanara.

“... quite a lot?”

“And you didn’t take me?” Zana asks, eyes wide, lip wobbling, utterly shameless in her display of grief. With one hand, she tugs on Keris; with the other, on Lilunu. “I th-th-thought you c-cared about me?”

“Believe me, you should be glad we didn’t,” Keris says, kneeling down and dropping a kiss on Zana’s forehead. “The Street of Golden Lanterns is _tacky_. So badly decorated. It would hurt you to look at it; it’s so gaudy. How about we tell you all about it...”

She glances at Lilunu and revises. “Okay, how about _I_ tell you all about it while Lilunu has a hangover remedy, and you can tell me how much better you’d decorate the place and what you’d put where.”

“Or I could look after Lilunu while she’s ill and be her nursemaid and make sure she’s all better,” Zana says, with suddenly bright eyes, “while you go pick up your new baby. Who’s finished, by the way.”

Keris blinks. “W-wait, really? That fast?” She turns to look in the direction of her townhouse. “Shit! I thought it would be days yet! And I promised Kerisa I’d be there...”

She looks around frantically, then drops another kiss on Zana’s forehead. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. You look after Lilunu, okay? Oh, and Oula showed me the tattoos you did for her; they’re _gorgeous_. Remind me later to go over them with you and give you some proper appreciation for them, okay?”

“Uh huh!” Zana looks cheerful again, and she reaches up and takes Lilunu’s hand, leading her off. “Don’t worry, I know all about doctoring! Well, some of it! Big Sis Haneyl showed me how to do things! Now, I can’t turn my fingers into roots, but I’m sure we’ll make do!”

Oula smiles faintly, waiting until they’re some distance away. “Do you want to save her?” she says softly.

“Make sure Zanara doesn’t do anything _too_ enthusiastic,” Keris says. “But first, supervise this lot,” she jerks a hair tendril at the carts, “getting my treasure to my townhouse, and send a runner ahead of them to let Rounen and Mehuni know to organise stashing it all. I’ve got a baby to greet.”

“Ah, so offload the work on Rounen,” Oula says. She smirks. “He’ll be delighted. I don’t mean that as a joke. His robe will be making a tent at the thought of counting and sorting these things.”

She waves goodbye to Keris with her free hand, sword over her shoulders.

Keris only spares time for a tolerant eyeroll before pushing herself towards her townhouse. She doesn’t bother with subtle, either. A sonic boom accompanies her departure, and she’s lit up with Valiant lightning all the way back to the sweltering heat of Xia’s tower.

It’s hot here, and the purple fire makes the green light of Ligier seem peculiarly dim. The tower is up ahead, surrounded by the tents and wagons of Xia’s entourage.

The lady herself is in the baths when Keris arrives, luxuriating in a room so steamy that her servants are constantly having to add fresh water to her bath given the rate it’s evaporating.

But all the steam is gone with Valiant force as Keris skids to a stop in front of her, blowing the back walls of the tent open.

“Dearie me!” Xia exclaims.

“It’s done?!” Keris pants. She’s aware she doesn’t make for a pretty sight at the moment; frazzled and hungover, her beautiful dress left creased and askew from the run, her hair windblown and twitching, her eyes bloodshot.

She doesn’t care.

“She’s here?” she asks. “She’s... born?”

“It was a smooth weld,” Xia says, rising from her bath. Water cascades off her blue skin, already turning to steam. “I’m just running hot right now, don’t mind me. I left the babe with some servants.”

Too right she is. This close to her, it’s like standing in front of a forge. Where she touches metal, it starts to glow cherry red.

“Rounen will handle your payment,” Keris says on autopilot, already focusing most of her attention for the sound of a baby’s crying. “Where is she? She came out healthy, you said? Good, that’s... that’s good. Where are the servants? I need to see her.”

She frowns, vaguely realising she’s starting to repeat herself, but doesn’t really care about that, either. Her baby is more important.

The baby is one of the tents, in the hands of a man with blue skin. He looks like Xia’s son. Makes sense - her clients probably don’t want their babies in the hands of demons, so she has a human for that.

And she’s in blankets, with very raw red skin that looks premature and unhealthy and... sunburned. She’s so _small_. Half the size Kali and Ogin were, maybe less. Completely hairless, and eyes closed.

Keris is tired, stressed, overburdened, still healing from grievous wounds at the hands of a Greater Yidak, adapting on top of that to a newly altered arm she still doesn’t understand and hungover from enough alcohol and outright poison to kill a full talon of grown men. All but one of her progeny are outside her soul, leaving her frighteningly alone, and the quivering sense of terror is starting to settle alongside the realisation of just how illegal Yuula’s last offer over gambling table was. She aches in places she didn’t know she had, the pangs of soul-sickness are trapped in the very bones of her left arm, and she probably hurts more from the lethal cocktail of drinks Yuula force-fed her than anything since she first ran with Adorjan. She’s a hot mess by anyone’s description.

She takes one look at the wrinkled little red thing wrapped in blankets, and falls in love every bit as fierce and fast as she did with her twins.

“Hello again, my little one,” she coos, tears spilling down her face as she takes her newborn babe without a single glance at the man holding her. She cradles her in the crook of an arm, running a finger as delicately as she possibly can across the raw-looking skin, mind already turning to soothing lotions and cooling creams.

She’s thought about this. Little River’s daughter can’t have a Tairan name. Keris can’t trust her subconscious to deliver something up for this baby. So she looked at Tengese names beforehand - and lo and behold; she’d found one that fit almost instantly. It was as perfect as its owner has turned out to be.

“Hello,” Keris whispers to her youngest daughter. “My little Atiya.”

Atiya doesn’t cry. She doesn’t do much. She just lies there, wheezing shallow, gasping breaths.

Keris cradles her close, rocking her gently, looking up at the man. “She’s so small,” she says, worried. “And her skin... did something go wrong? Why is her breathing like that? What...”

She breaks off, shaking her head and forcing the panic down. She’s entirely capable of diagnosing her daughter on her own, and adjusts her grip to help Atiya breathe better as she checks over her, placing a careful ear to her chest to listen to her breathing and calling on her enhanced sense of touch as she traces over the newborn’s inflamed skin. Keris thinks she recalls this from Old Calley and her services as a cheap doctor for the streetwalking harlotry. Atiya is premature - very premature - or would be if she’d been born normally. Probably less than seven months, maybe barely six. That young, many babies are just not... entirely complete. Their lungs are weak; their skin not enough to keep them warm; their hair not grown in yet.

She remembers that when born in summer, they’d sometimes have a chance, but babies born that young in winter, or if the gods didn’t smile on them - the odds weren’t good.

“Okay,” she whispers, stroking her baby’s hair. “Okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll be fine.”

Some distant part of her mind starts working out dates and times, calculating how it will look to the Hui Cha... yes, Little River was barely pregnant in Wood, and it’s Earth now. It’s certainly believable for Atiya to look premature.

But for the most part, she’s just fretting. It’s not panic. Not quite. She knows this is something she can get her daughter through; she knows she’s a very, very good healer and that there’s no risk of Atiya not making it under her care. But she’s so tiny and frail and heartbreakingly vulnerable that it consumes Keris’s world.

“We’ll keep you nice and warm, won’t we?” she whispers. “And make salves to help your skin, and I’ll learn Lilunu’s acupuncture so I can help you with your breathing, and you’ll be fine, precious one, I promise. You’ll be just fine.”

Tenderly, careful not to apply too much pressure, she drops a feather-light kiss of welcome on Atiya’s forehead.

“I’m here,” she murmurs. “I’m here for you, darling. I’m right here.”

The little red scrap of flesh stirs, and coughs, weakly. She still doesn’t cry. Cradling her as close as possible with the utmost care, Keris nods to the blue-skinned man and leaves the tower. She avoids Xia’s sweltering-hot steam room, wary of its effect on her daughter, but spots Rounen as she leaves.

“Rounen!” she calls. “Give... give my compliments to the Lady Xia.” She turns slightly and twitches a fold of her dress aside so he can see the little red face. “She’s... well, she’s premature. And she’ll need a lot of care before she’s as healthy as her brother and sister. But she’s perfect. Pay her in full, please.”

“As you wish, ma’am,” Rounen says. “I think that-”

Night falls on Hell. First the shadows come, crawling on the floor. Then they merge together. Xia’s tower begins to cast darkness, not light. There is the wailing of a horn. In the shadows dance and skitter the Things that Lurk in Corners.

Before Keris, there is a face in the darkness.

No. Not a face. A pale mask. It’s smiling.

“... my lady,” Keris says, suddenly wishing she’d had time to follow through with that idea about a silver kymaaera-patterned mask. She shifts her grip on Atiya, drawing her back into the folds of her dress. “I’m honoured by your visit. Can I offer you tea?”

“The pleasure is all mine,” says Noh softly, stepping out of the darkness. She is a figure of inky shadow, not of the living world. Her mask is the only point of light in her voluminous black robes - but the mask is horned and fanged despite its smile.

She reminds Keris of Calesco, dressed like this. Or perhaps Calesco if she stole Eko’s new mask.

“But,” she raises one finger, “I am not here for you, Keris. I am here to offer my blessings.”

“For... for my daughter?” Keris asks, tentatively. But she has a squirming dread deep down that it’s something else Noh is here to bless. Something rather less... legal.

She steps in.

“Yes,” she says, reaching out with a shrouded hand, to lay it on Atiya’s brow.

“ **Hail to thee, Atiya,** ” she says, in archaic Old Realm - strange and formal even by the standards of the Demon Realm. “ **Hail to thee, Doom of the Three Golden Lands. Hail to thee, Golden Lord’s Bane. Hail to thee, Last Queen of An Teng.** ”

She steps back - and curtseys, her shadowy voluminous robes flowing around her.

((... hahaha _hahahaHAHAHA_ ))  
(( _Hours_ old, and already a legit doom prophecy from the heart of a Yozi.))  
(( : D))

Wide-eyed and speechless, Keris stares at the heart of the Ebon Dragon, who - she recalls now - works always within the shadows to cast down all thrones and ruin all seats of power; weakening the domains of the gods and whispering of opposition and rebellion to any who will hear her. There are secrets that the Black Moon of Malfeas knows, for ill omens that consume the stars are part of her domain, and it is the nature of the Shadow of All Things to know many things that should not be.

Was this a blessing? A curse?

Or a prophecy?

Just what has Keris _done_ here?

Noh steps back into the darkness, until her mask is gone.

And the shadows separate, becoming the shadows of all the things that squirm in Malfeas - and even then they melt away in Ligier’s green light.

Atiya’s eyes are open now, from her scrunched up red face. Her breath is still wheezy and inconsistent. And Keris almost thinks she has a dark cap on - but no, it’s a head of hair, as black as the darkest places below the Demon City.

Iris rises up from Keris’s arm, keening.

Keris regards her daughter with worry, trepidation and not a small hint of fear. She takes a deep, deliberate breath, stroking Iris’s head with a hair tendril.

“Well then,” she breathes. “Let’s get you to bed, baby girl. We can introduce you to your brother and sister, doesn’t that sound fun? And then we can give you a proper checkup to see...”

She looks up at where the shadows had disappeared.

“... what in hell that just did to you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Newborn baby in her arms, Keris returns home. In her stomach wars a mix of fear, worry and elation for the tiny scrap of red flesh with jet black hair she’s carrying.

The streets of the Conventicle are empty - weirdly so. She can hear the demons are inside, hiding as they kick up a racket. They’re all terrified of how the Dragon’s Shadow passed over them. They bang their gongs and sing out at the top of their lungs in fear of Erembour’s music.

Neither Keris nor Atiya seem to like the racket.

“So, uh, ma’am,” Rounen asks, raising his voice even as he steps in closer to her. He covers his mouth with one hand. “What just happened?”

“Before I answer that,” Keris says, mind whirring, “did anybody besides us hear it?”

“I don’t... believe so? The demons,” his nose wrinkles, “had all fled and...” he swallows. “Even I turned my eyes away from her. That mask in the darkness was... I felt like I was going to die. The pressure from her being there was like being deep, deep underwater. It was... it was like the darkness had weight.”

Keris nods, relief rushing through her. “Good. Then I don’t have to kill anyone. In that case... that was the heart of the Shadow of All Things, Rounen. A fetich. Equal in power to Ligier and Lilunu. Did you hear what she said?”

He blinks at her. “Not... exactly? She said things, and it was... it was about... the newborn, but...” He swallows. “I knew if I paid attention to her, she might... notice me.”

Processing this for a moment, Keris comes to a decision and nods. “It was a prophecy. I’ll... mm.” She grimaces. “I need to think about whether to have you record what she said. I’ll decide that later - I’m not going to forget; that’s going to be burned into my mind deep enough to haunt my nightmares.” She turns to her aide, careful not to jostle Atiya. “But Rounen; this stays secret. You understand? You tell no one that the prophecy was even made; that she was even here for us, instead of by coincidence. _No one_. Not Sasi, not even Haneyl or my other children. A prophecy like this... I don’t want anyone catching wind even of it _existing_ until I’ve decided what to do.”

She reaches inward, feeling for Dulmea. ‘Did you hear it, mama?’ she thinks nervously.

Dulmea sighs. “Yes, child. This was trouble you did not need, with such a sickly child. Will such a weak babe even be able to support such weighty measures on her shoulders?” She plays a melancholy tune as she says that. “And I feel perhaps more certain that I am no longer the demon I was. Your Rounen, for all his pride and Haneyl-like arrogance, acts like any other demon forced into proximity with one of the Unquestionable who showed their power in such a way. Her presence alone affected him. Not me.”

‘We keep it secret,’ Keris decides firmly. ‘From everyone. Nobody but you, me and Rounen needs to know - and Sasi would have a breakdown if she found out. I... I think trying to avert this kind of prophecy will only make it more likely. Better to sit on it until she’s old enough to be told.’

“It was not an instruction from her,” Dulmea says slowly, “so yes, I agree. I am not sure whether it was a prophecy or a curse, but - well, the Unquestionable have their ways.”

Shivering uncomfortably, Keris applies herself to making sure her newborn is properly swaddled and making haste back into her townhouse.

“I can go look for any books in Orabilis’s library on how to look after premature infants, ma’am,” Rounen suggests as they head towards the door. “Or do you need me for anything else?”

“That would be perfect, Rounen,” Keris tells him. “Thank you.” He bows, then heads off. Keris enters the house, looking for the Gale she left looking after the twins.

She finds her running the halls with a net, chasing after a runaway Kali-kitten with an Ogin in her arms.

“Get back here, Kali, you... oh!” 

Kali runs headfirst into mama’s shin, looks up slightly dazed, and pops back into being a naked toddler. Keris smiles, overcome with affection, and scoops her up in a hair tendril, dancing her through the air to make her squeal with glee before cradling her.

“Kali, Ogin?” she coos, “I have someone very important to introduce you to. Come here and see!”

Two sets of eerily bright eyes focus on her with unsettling intensity, and the Gale follows Keris with Ogin as she diverts into a side-chamber. Setting herself on a chaise lounge, the pair of Kerises deposit the twins on the cushioned seat beside her and re-join, swaying for a moment as they reintegrate.

Gold and silver gazes stare up at her, and both toddlers coo in appreciation at two mamas turning into one mama. Ogin turns to Kali with a speculative expression and tries sucking on her ear, but tilts his head resignedly and turns back to mama when it doesn’t work.

“Kali, Ogin,” Keris says, and bends down to let them see the little reddened form in her arms, stubbornly struggling for every breath. “This is your newborn little sister. Her name is Atiya. A-ti-ya. She’s very little and very weak, because she was born early - not like you two, who were in mama for a whole year! Atiya isn’t as healthy and strong as you are. So you have to promise to be gentle and to look after her, okay? She’s your little sister, and that means it’s your job to protect her.”

She smiles wistfully, thoughts flying far away to Ali and his family, out on the water somewhere in Creation. “That’s what family does, you know,” she murmurs. “They look after each other.”

((Pres + Per to explain to very small children that they have a new sibling who will be getting their own attention from mama :P))   
((Lol. 4+5+2 Eternal Matriarch+2 stunt+9 Kimmy ExD {impossibly high standards, thinks she is fair}=22. 12 sux.))

Kali stares up at Atiya and mama with narrowed eyes, rubbing her ear. Then she reaches over to Ogin, and measures his head with her hands. “Sma’,” she decides. “Baba sissy sma’ an’... Gin! Gin back!”

Ogin for his part is more curious, and crawls along the cushions to Keris, lifting himself up on his tails to peer over at the little bundle of flesh. Silver eyes are wide as he stares down at her and her closed eyes. Then he looks up at Keris.

“Atiya,” he says carefully. “She’s very small.”

Keris’s eyes go as wide as her son’s. Truth be told, she’d been starting to worry about how quiet he was; how he never spoke for all his sister’s babbling, but...

“Yes, moonbeam,” she whispers, heart hurting from love, and reaches down to brush his cheek gently and run her fingers through his silvery-white hair. “She is, isn’t she?”

He leans over back towards his sister. “Kali,” he says firmly. “Do not break her.”

“Gin!” Kali protests. “No!” She throws her arms wide. “Abahbulago!”

Ogin shakes his head minutely, and Kali huffs.

“Gin!”

He shrugs, as she crawls over and rests her head on Keris’s lap.

“Gin is Rat’an an’ I’m Cally to Addiya?” Kali tries.

Ogin nods.

((omg _so cute_ ))

“Yes, very good, little feather! That’s _just_ what you are!” Keris gives Kali a congratulatory kiss on her forehead. “And well _done_ , Ogin,” she hums, picking him up to rest her forehead against his for a moment, smiling wide enough to split her face. “My clever, brilliant boy. I’m so proud of you.” She kisses both his cheeks and cuddles him close, pride and love and elation running through her so vividly that it’s a struggle not to let them boil over and turn her flesh to laughing wind.

Ogin giggles, and kisses Keris on the nose, before snaking a pair of tails down to touch Atiya’s face. Something about that tickles her nose, and she gives a tiny high pitched sneeze that makes both Ogin and Kali jump.

“Oh, be careful,” Keris says, scooping her up gently and pulling the twins into her hair. “Come on, mama’s taking all of you to the doctor room for a check-up. Atiya needs it, and... well, I want to make sure you two are doing well too. And at the end, if you’re good, you get treats!”

Ogin and Kali perk up at that.

“Honey?” Kali exclaims happily, bouncing up and down on her knees, waving her hair in the air.

It reminds Keris that she probably needs to get used to keeping a change of clothes for Kali on her at all times. Especially when they’re back in Creation.

“Yes, sweetheart. Honey if you’re good. Come on!”

Ogin rests his head on her shoulder and Kali gets to bounce and swoop as if she’s flying as Keris takes them to the medical room that most recently saw Piu inhabiting it - Keris makes a mental note to check up on her, too. There, she looks over Atiya in detail and takes advantage of the opportunity, time and equipment to examine her older pair of infants in more depth than she’s been able to before.

((OK, so what are you looking for here?))   
((So, for Atiya, Keris is looking for the main risk factors - the biggest threats to her health. I suspect “breathing”, “immune system” and “heat” will be up there. And having identified them, she’ll be coming up with things she can do to help with each, like massage and maybe air hearthstones for breathing, etc.))   
((For the twins, she’s basically going to be doing a more extended, in-depth look into their nature and essence and what kind of akuma they are, trying to anticipate any dietary needs or growth paths as well as getting an idea of what their ‘focus’ is as material-spirit-like beings.))   
((Reaction + Occult for Atiya, and then a Cog + Occult for the twins.))   
((Atiya; 5+5+2 stunt+10 Kimmy ExD {endlessly giving, patronage and kindness are real}=22. 7 sux.  
Twins; 4+5+2 stunt+9 Kimmy ExD=20. 4 sux?! Wtf, dice fairies? _Wtf?_ Do you hate Keris’s babies or something?))

Unfortunately things don’t go quite as well as she might have hoped. The twins are still very small and have Eko-like attention spans, and are distracting her when she tries to look at Atiya - and then when she’s looking at one of them, the other starts playing up in her medical room.

At least with Atiya, they’re interested at first. Keris probes her newborn daughter with tendrils, checking her organs and her blood. Her liver isn’t working yet, so she’s going to be jaundiced, and she’s very vulnerable to cold right now. And - gods, in her state, a mild infection might kill her. She’s just so frail. Keris frowns. And she thinks the heart wall is thinner than it should be. It reminds her of what Zany had. She’ll need to watch out for that - it seems to run in her family’s blood, a weak heart.

In the end, she just gives up on getting much out of the twins. Kali is right on the verge of teething and is disgustingly bouncy and unable to sit still, while her brother has no signs of teeth yet and his tails sometimes flicker in and out of materiality. Which doesn’t seem to be an actual _problem_ , so she can leave it be.

But she can’t look any deeper into that. Not when she has three bored, hungry babies - and she probably shouldn’t be nursing right now given what she drank last night. Like Yozi venom.

“Okay, okay,” she sighs. “Honey time for both of you.” Wrangling them back out of the medical room and into bed, she gives Kali and Ogin each a little pot with a shaped lid they can sip it through - the better to hopefully reduce spillages and stickiness - and creates a Gale without any poison in her system to nurse Atiya, splitting her attention between some simple massages to help her breathe and keeping the twins from getting _too_ much honey all over the room. And sheets. And floor. And each other.

If the lids are helping, it’s not by much.

((You know you’re not actually meant to give small babies honey? The risk of botulism is a thing. Of course, that’s modern knowledge, but I thought Keris would just make a Gale to nurse Atiya who wouldn’t have poison in her system))   
((Oh, really? Huh. Shit.))   
((I mean, the twins are probably fine because they have supercharged immune systems))   
((Yeah. But none for Atiya, then.))   
((But the danger with real babies is that when they’re too small, their immune systems aren’t developed enough to fight off botulism and it can cause lethal paralysis and stuff))

Naturally, by the time she looks back at the twins, they’ve got it on their hair, hands, and in Ogin’s case, fur. She’s trying to clean them off when she hears footsteps outside, and Kali perks up.

“San!” she shouts at the top of her lungs. “San San San!”

Xasan pokes his head in the door, to see Kali waving frantically while Ogin uses the chance to try to steal his sister’s honey and get more on his tails in the process.

“Oh, Keris,” he says, smiling. “And hello, Kali-”

“San!”

“... yes, hello Kali, and Ogin, and... oh?” he looks at Keris. “Another baby? Whose is it?”

“Mine,” Keris says, exhausted. “Granted, I didn’t carry this one myself, but she’s still mine. I have another identity back in Saata, who needs a baby to match what she looks like. And I promised Kerisa I’d help her. Two birds, one stone.”

She gives her uncle a tired smile. “Come over and meet her. I promise this one is human. No surprises like Kali and Ogin were.”

Kali of course wants her uncle’s attention, but he’s more distracted by the baby and she pouts.

“She’s so tiny,” Xasan says, wonder and fear in his voice. He looks at Keris. “So much smaller than those two were. And she’s so red. Who did you adopt her from?”

“I didn’t adopt her, exactly,” Keris sighs. “Her name is Atiya. I wanted... well, if I’d carried her myself, she’d have been like Kali and Ogin are. Yes, you two,” she smiles fondly, as Kali tugs at her mama’s leg. “Beautiful, and powerful - but not human. So I made arrangements for her to... well, to develop outside me, so she didn’t absorb so much power as to outstrip her human nature. But... it was complex, and she came out premature.”

She looks down at the little form nursing from her other half’s chest, and pulls Kali up into her own lap, stroking her hair. “Her heart is weak, too. Like Zany’s. No holes, but... it seems something our family is prone to.”

Xasan frowns. “Not my side,” he says. “Must be the Tairan side if she has it and so does Zany.

The Gale coughs, looking at Keris. “I don’t think she’s feeding right,” she says directly. “She’s just sort of... dribbling. I’m not sure she can swallow properly. I might need to,” she looks at Xasan and blushes bright red, “uh, milk myself into a bowl and feed her with a reed You know, like how you feed baby birds.” She purses her lips. “Can you take Uncle and the twins outside? I’d like some privacy for this.”

“Right,” Keris nods. “Oh! Uncle! Ogin _spoke!_ His first words! And they were so clear, weren’t they moonbeam?” She scoops him up, planting a kiss on his forehead and leading Xasan out. “My clever boy.”

“Oh?” Xasan says, picking up a happy Kali who wriggles in his arms, enjoying the height. “What did he say?”

“How small Atiya was,” Keris shares excitedly, glowing with pride and hoisting Ogin up to ride on her shoulders. “You’re going to be such a good big brother, aren’t you? And Kali was a clever little girl and worked out that they’re like Rathan and Calesco are to them, to Atiya!”

Xasan shakes his head. “It’s hard to remember they’re only a couple of seasons old. They’re more like year-olds. I’d say it’s not natural, but-” he smiles, “honestly I’m glad they skip the worst part of babies.” He frowns. “The new baby, she won’t if she’s human. She won’t be as independent as they are for a year, maybe more.”

“I know,” Keris agrees, mood faltering. “More, probably. She’s premature, so she’s playing catch-up just to get to where she should have been at birth.” She sighs, Ogin patting her head as he senses her sadness. “I promised Kerisa better than this.”

Xasan’s expression is taut. “I mean, they say dead people are born again - well, ‘cept for the bravest of warriors who go to be with the gods,” he says. “But it’s weird to think your ghost girl is now that baby.”

“Addiya! Addiya!” Kali crows happily. 

Ogin shakes his head.

“Shuddit, Gin! Addiya! Addiya!”

Keris shrugs. “It happens naturally,” she points out. “I just... helped it along.” She sighs again. “I wish... I wish I could have helped mama pass on. Not like Kerisa, but properly. The natural way. I wish she hadn’t...”

She blinks back tears, her scars twinging. The metal-and-stone scabs have receded a fair amount, but still ache now and then.

They find a place to sit, and Xasan sighs as Kali starts to clamber on top of his head. “No... no. Lap time, I think,” he says, scooping her down. “I don’t have hair to catch you when you fall.”

Ogin nods, and Kali sighs, letting herself sit in her great-uncle’s lap. She sticks a thumb in her mouth, and curls up.

Looking at him, Xasan looks old. He pats Kali, and catches Keris’s eyes. “You haven’t talked about that, you know. What happened?”

Ogin somehow knows that mama needs hugs right now, and snuggles up to her, resting his head on her chest.

Keris’s eyes dart towards the doorway. She can’t stop it, and she knows Xasan sees it. But he has Kali, and that makes her hesitate.

“Child...” Dulmea sighs from within her. “You must talk about this at some point. Will there be any better time?”

There’s a short moment that stretches out long and silent in the gaps between seconds.

Then Keris sighs, and sits down.

“You... know she was angry,” she begins, cuddling Ogin close. “About her death. About how slowly we were moving. About Ney. About me. About... a lot of things, really. She didn’t love me anymore - she’d lost that on the tree. I mattered, but... but only as a tool for her revenge.”

Xasan sits there, and listens to the story.

((How much of it is Keris willing to tell))   
((I think... hmm... hmm. Hmm. So, there are two possibilities here. One is that she tells him everything to do with Maryam, and touches on the other stuff mostly only when they intersect with that progression of events.))   
((The other is that she’s feeling vulnerable and insecure and stressed and... let me check... yeah, pretty high Limit at the moment. And we know she’s prone to Shattered Solipsism Awareness behaviour even when she’s just _nearing_ a Torment. So the other option is that she tells him _everything_ , bar the really intimate details, and Xasan gets perhaps a better understanding than even most of Keris’s party as to just how devious and subtle and Nighty his niece can be. And is, habitually, even when not really focusing.))   
((Which, hmm. Is probably genuinely useful information for him to know, going forward, even if it’ll make things a bit awkward as he comes to terms with what his niece is really like, deep down. Hmm. Could she bleed off a point of Limit by venting like this?))   
((Yes, I think so - she’s doing Limit-like behaviour))   
((Then yeah, the second one.))

Keris shares. And, well... Dulmea is there, prompting her now and then, and Xasan asks questions every so often, and explaining how angry her mother was when they paused at Malek’s estate turns into explaining _why_ they paused there, which runs into talking about Ney, and then meanders back to Maryam possessing her and Ney scaring her off, necessitating more of an explanation of why he cared so much, and going over the whole mess in the capital is necessary to frame why she was in the state she was when Maryam launched her attack on the istandar’s estate...

... and perhaps Keris overshares a bit. She winds up telling Xasan more or less everything, really - a look into all the bits he wasn’t there for, all of the manoeuvring and deception and the unseen battles that empty circles like she and Ney fight in the shadows.

It feels good to get it off her chest. It hurts, too, and so she doesn’t really keep track of his reaction. She just focuses on distancing herself as much as possible from what she’s saying, and playing with Ogin - and Kali, when she crawls over to join her brother on mama’s lap - and answering the questions from Dulmea and Xasan both.

When it’s all over and she’s finished explaining - the robbery, fooling Ney, drawing off pursuit, catching up to the group, finding Piu... Keris slumps back into the soft embrace of the chair, surprised at how exhausted she feels.

Honesty is tiring, it seems.

“Don’t cry, mama,” Ogin says, stretching up to touch her face. His little hand comes away wet.

Xasan’s eyes are... wide. Yes. They’re wide.

“You did _all_ of that as a new mother?” he asks in disbelief. “How did you have the time?”

Keris’s lips twitch. “Gales,” she shrugs, tilting her head toward the room they left her other-self in with Atiya. “And my speed, and... and this is just what I _do_ , uncle. It’s what I’m trained for. It’s what Sasi _needs_ me for, because she can’t improvise for shit when things go wrong. But I... I grew up on the streets. I’ve always been able to react, even when everything’s - hah - going to hell. A decent plan done fast is better than a perfect plan that takes too long, right? I’m good at hiding and the sneaky stuff, I’m good at thinking on my feet... and I’m good at lying. I had to be.”

The lip twitch grows into a faintly bitter smile. “Like Ney said. That’s what people like us are for. Us empty circles.”

Ogin uses the chance to scale her, getting his tails in Kali’s face, and kiss her on the cheek. He grins at Keris’s change in expression.

“And that’s what you do for the lords of Hell, isn’t it?” Xasan says sadly. “This place - this dome - it’s the palace of the Queen of Hell, isn’t it? That demon who looks like a woman, but who never keeps the same shape from moment to moment; the one I’ve seen walking around here from a distance, surrounded by servants. You’re one of her assassins, aren’t you?”

Keris starts to nod, then hesitates. “Lilunu... what’s something you’ll understand?” She closes her eyes wearily for a moment. “She’s not... she’s not what you’re thinking. She’s a queen, yes, but... it’s the other Unquestionable who hold the real power. She’s just the, the figurehead. The one who gives the orders they decide on.”

She sighs. “Which doesn’t answer your question, I guess. Yes. Assassin... saboteur, thief, spy... I haven’t done many killing missions for them, if that makes you feel any better. I found out where Baisha was as payment for a mission down in Eshtock - Saha. Lookshyians were plundering one of the old Shogunate cities protected by a mist barrier. I broke into their fortress, stole their documents and passed them on to another Princess to use as blackmail, then killed all their sorcerers so they couldn’t keep getting treasure out and trapped a bunch of them in the city with a horde of hungry Dead.”

She pauses. “And also maybe started a war between Lookshy and Thorns by framing them for doing it. And pilfered all their notes of how they got in there in the first place, so that we could copy it once they were gone. And made off with some treasures from the city that they hadn’t taken yet. But that was the worst one, really. In the southwest I’m just fouling up Realm trade, and when I went to the northeast it was to hunt fae.”

Xasan lets out his breath in a whistle. “Yeesh. No wonder you felt you could handle the Jackal of Malra. In more than one way.”

Keris smiles. “I’d never played against someone else who did what I do before. It was...” Her brow creases. “Fun? I guess... what’s the feeling when you spar against someone not quite on the same side, but who’s a challenge and enjoys it and doesn’t just make it about one of you dying?”

The man harrumphs. “Yes, well,” but she can tell he’s just trying to distract himself. So does Ogin, who crawls over to his great uncle, scales him, and gives him a kiss too.

Xasan smiles at that, and combs his fingers through Ogin’s hair. 

“So that was how it ended,” he says eventually. “My sister, mad and corrupted with the kind of power that the worst, most evil ghosts indulge in.”

“I think... I think she wasn’t entirely gone, even at the end,” Keris sniffs. “That... that was the worst part, really. She wiped out that Underworld domain... but she was right, kind of. She carried the rage of all those slaves, all those dead from the mines of Malra, and... and she wanted to avenge them. To make sure no more would join them from such deaths.”

Something occurs to her, and she hiccups a half-laugh, half-sob. “A-and,” she adds, “her plan, at the end there. She was... she was going deeper into the Underworld. For power. Maybe even to b-become something like the Mask of Winters. Throwing herself into the unknown, trying to take on and master something so p-powerful because she was _sure_ she could handle it... isn’t that just like what you compared me to her for?”

Xasan reaches out and grips Keris’s wrists. “You are _not_ like that,” he says fiercely. “You wouldn’t do the... the forbidden things the worst ghosts in old stories do!”

“No,” Keris agrees, sniffling. “But it was still _her_ , don’t you see? She was... corrupted, and angry. But... but the feeling behind it, the attitude... that was just like you said she was in life. It was still her.”

She hugs herself miserably. “I just... wasn’t enough. To stop her. Or... to talk her down.”

Xasan squeezes tighter. “No. My sister was gone. When a dog gets rabies, your dog is gone - it’s a mad beast. Same for a ghost who lingers too long.” He looks her in the eyes - deep brown meeting grey. “We do what the living do; remember her as she was, not what she became when her soul and flesh rotted. And maybe we’ll get a cow and plenty of drinks and slaughter it in her honour then burn the bones and spread the ash.”

Keris nods, and leans into him, letting him wrap her up in a hug. He’s bigger than her. It feels nice, being held by a parental figure. Dulmea is always there for her, but she’s not much one for physical affection.

Ogin and Kali squirm out from between them, and watch with big eyes. Kali tries to say something, but Ogin covers her mouth with his hand.

“Gin!”

“Shh.”

“Xasan?” a muffled voice emerges from his shoulder. “You’re... you don’t...”

There’s a pause. “Are you... okay? With... with what I am? Because I don’t... I don’t think I can ever be Harbourite like you are. I am what I am. I can’t change it.”

Xasan hugs her tighter. “You and Ali are my only blood left,” he says, voice rough. “And I’ve been in Taira too long. I had to be a father for Ali, and you know... he’s much less Harbourite than you.” He forces a grin. “And maybe I can corrupt the next generation. Kali’s a little troublemaker. She looks like she has potential.”

“San!” Kali beams from around Ogin’s hand.

Keris giggles, sniffling in relief and reluctant humour. “She’s going to be a handful,” she agrees. “And... gods, Kerisa was the most stubborn little girl I’ve ever met. She won’t have lost that strength of spirit through rebirth. Atiya will have steel in her soul.” She clears her throat, pulling back from the hug. “I’ll have to arrange for a Daiwye blessing for her... probably when she passes her due date, in Wood. It’s meant to happen when you’re sure they’ll live, right? I mean... I’m not worried; I know I can keep her safe even in her condition, but... it feels right to do it once her health is better and she’s as well-off as a normal newborn.”

“Mmm,” he says. “I guess we’ll be down in the South West you keep talking about, by then? What’s it like?”

“Hot,” Keris says immediately. “Humid - the humidity was the _worst_ when I first went there; I’ll have to see if I can make some jewellery or token or something that can stave off the worst of it for you all. Very spicy food, be careful of that. Um... it’s mostly islands and ocean, out where we are, but they’re big islands; it’s just moving between them that takes a lot of swimming or ship travel.”

She purses her lips, thinking through what else he’ll need to know. “Saata... Saata is a bit like a tropical Nexus; it’s wonderful. I joined a group of Tengese pirate-lords called the Hui Cha, and one of my faces is a Dragonblooded called Little River who’s been rising up their ranks. I’ve won over one-and-a-half of their six leaders, and when I come back from birthing my child with a load of jewels and a divine ally and a fleet, I can probably bring that up to five over a season or so. Then I’ll set up Cinnamon and the Lionesses as an unaligned faction and be set.”

Xasan rolls his eyes. “Do you... do you have a compulsive need to make everything so complicated?” he asks, throwing his hands in the air.

“Mama likes playing dress up,” Ogin says, squeezing his sister’s hand.

“... oh.” Xasan blinks. “Kid, can you pretend to be a normal baby a bit harder? It’s strange to hear that kind of speech coming from someone so small.”

Ogin shrugs, and tries sucking on Kali’s hand.

“No, Gin! No nom!”

“It’s... safer,” Keris explains, smiling awkwardly. “If all my public faces are... you know, lies, then nobody attacking them will get to Ali and Zany and Hanilyia. They won’t even know they’re connected. And if I’m discovered by someone like that _goddamn Fire Aspect bitch_ in the Shore Lands, I can just abandon that face and...”

She waves her hands vaguely. “Poof. Vanish. Like trying to hit smoke.”

((So, “yes, she does.” : P))

“It’s dress up,” Ogin says seriously. “Rathan said mama likes dress up.”

“Fine, yes, it’s also because I like playing dress-up,” Keris agrees, charmed by her baby boy’s brilliance. No incoherent babble from _her_ son! Not that Kali’s babbling isn’t adorable, but Keris suspects, now, that Ogin was staying quiet and watchful and soaking up how other people spoke until he could do it himself and get it right on the first try.

... honestly, remembering Haneyl’s reaction to her first unsuccessful attempts at speech and Vali’s simple refusal to say anything at first, Keris maybe isn’t surprised.

“Dress up! Dress up!” Kali repeats, because she’s seen it makes mama very happy and gets Ogin hugs.

Keris laughs and scoops her up too. “Do _you_ want to dress up, little feather? Do you want to try on a pretty dress to see how it looks? You’ll have to promise not to turn into a kitten or a chicklet and claw holes in it if you do, mind.”

Kali just beams at her, and Xasan chuckles, pulling himself to his feet with a grunt. “Well, I’ll leave you to that. Thank you, Keris. Thank you for... for telling me. And for laying her to rest.” He grins down at Kali. “And when you’re older, baby girl, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Kali tilts her head. “Ciss’dy!” she says brightly.

“We’ll see,” says Keris, deeply amused. “Thank _you_ , uncle. For... for not turning me away. And for listening. I think it helped, to get it out at last.”

Xasan hugs her, then kisses the twins. “Do you know how much longer we’ll be staying here?” he asks. “Do I need to think about packing yet?”

“Now that Atiya’s born? We’ll be moving on pretty soon. I have some people to talk to - one or two others like me, Mehuni, and one of my bosses might want to talk. But that shouldn’t take more than a few scr- uh, a day or two. Depending on when Orange Blossom feels like showing up.” Keris’s face takes on a sour note for the last part, remembering _another_ time when Orange Blossom wasn’t around when she was needed, but she shakes that off in favour of her children. “Start packing, I’d say, but don’t put away anything you use most just yet.”

“Got it.” Xasan nods. “Well, I’ll see you at dinner. I’m off for another run around the grounds.” He pats his belly, and the twins giggle at the slapping noise. “I’m eating too well here.”

He leaves, and Keris is left with her adorable little babies. After that stressful little talk with her uncle, she decides that it’s probably time for a nice relaxing break with them.

Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen because right now she needs to clean the honey off them, so instead she takes them to the baths. She can clean them off, and for her part she can sit back, float, and relax while she clears off her hangover.

An hour later, and she and two clean babies are floating in lovely warm water. Kali is paddling with a strand of hair around her waist, while Ogin lies floating - and for once, they’re not trying to escape because they seem fully aware that they can’t swim that well. All is nice and relaxing and Keris’s headache is going down.

Then someone damn well near knocks down her front door, pounding on it. Then does it again. She could probably hear it even if she wasn’t so sensitive to noise.

“Oh, for...” she mutters, grumbling. It’s not likely to be a demon; even an envoy from an Unquestionable would be more polite than this. An Unquestionable or a demon lord in person... possible, but she doesn’t know many who would do this. A Prince or Princess...

“... goddammit,,” Keris mutters, as the set of possibilities narrows down to two. “Either Vali’s home early, or Naan’s here for a layover and got wind that I am too. Alright, sweethearts, come here.”

Gathering her babies to her, she dries off - with haste, because neither option is known for their patience - and throws on a shift before heading down to where Mehuni is greeting her loud and insistent guest.

It is indeed Naan - short, solid, and built like a wall. An ugly wall. He’s picked up some new scars since Keris last saw him, and his nose has a bronze band over the top holding it back into shape. He must have broken it recently.

“Keris!” he salutes with his hip flask, sprawled out over three of his chairs. “You got thin again!”

“These two aren’t taking up space anymore,” Keris returns, grinning. “Also, I beat your drinking record. Sorry, but I wound up in a betting match with Yuula, and... whoo. That demon can _drink_. We escalated to Yozi Venom by the last hand.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Naan says. “And she’s one hell of a card shark. She ain’t a lady, for all she looks like one.”

Keris smirks. “You wouldn’t know it, given how much I cleared her out of,” she brags. “One of her swords was in my pot at one point. I mean, I didn’t walk away with it, but I had it there and kept it for a round.”

She meanders over and plots into a seat opposite him. “So, how about you meet my two bundles of trouble and then we get started on the bragging. I gotta warn you; I’m going to win that, too.”

Leaning forward, she sits one child on each knee. “This is Kali, and this is Ogin. My beautiful baby twins. And before you ask; I haven’t a clue which one’s older; they decided to come into the world on a frozen mountainside in Taira with no warning, and I was out of it for most of the birth.”

“Cute little things,” Naan grunts. “Weird eyes. And he ain’t got no legs.”

Ogin looks away at that, covering his face in Keris’s shoulder.

“He has _tails_ , which are _better_ ,” Keris defends, scowling and kissing Ogin on the temple. “For a start, he’s got more of them. And Kali can-”

Ogin reaches over blindly and touches Kali’s shoulder, which prompts her to give Naan a narrow-eyed look, jump off Keris’s knee, and pop mid-fall into kitten form, landing cleanly and darting forward to bite the mean man squarely on the ankle.

“... change form,” sighs Keris. “Kali, stop that. He didn’t mean it.”

Naan jerks upright, then falls off his chair laughing as the tiger cub tries to savage him. “Fuckin’ hell, that’s funny! You’re funny!” he tells the yowling ball of teeth and claws trying to savage his leg and scraping off his skin.

“She is an adorable little ball of- Kali, seriously, stop attacking his leg. Or at least aim somewhere you’ll do more damage. Come on, come here.” Keris manages, after a bit of a struggle, to detangle her daughter from Naan’s kneecap and cuddle her against her chest, which she responds to by pressing up against Ogin and purring loudly.

“And you,” Keris directs at the still prone and laughing Naan, “get up from there, I spend enough time talking to people at floor height nowadays. And apologise to Ogin; you hurt his feelings.”

Naan picks himself up. “Fuck me, I spilled that drink. Yeah, whatever, sorry kid. Hey, some demons ain’t got legs either. You’re in good company too. Anyway, this ain’t all a social trip Keris.”

“Oh?” Keris arches an eyebrow. “Did Orange Blossom send you? I have some things to pass onto her. Important ones.”

“Nah.” He digs through his pockets, recovering a sealed metal box and brushing off some crumbs from it. “The big boss Ligier grabbed me when I was at a party on his layer and told me I gotta go deliver it to you. Dunno what it is.”

“... ah,” Keris says, eyeing the box as if it were a live grenade. “Right. I’ll... look at that later, then.” She takes it gingerly. “In private. _Have_ you seen Orange Blossom, though?”

“Saw her yesterday,” he grunts. “She was meeting with one of the bosses here.”

“Hm.” It’s a short, displeased sound. “Well, whatever. Wanna hear about what I did to a bunch of Dragonblooded down in Taira, or will you wait for Calibration to be humbled?”

“I mean, if you got food going, I don’t mind listening to you brag,” he says with a grin. “I ain’t eaten in an hour or two so I’m starvin’.”

“Well alright then,” Keris grins, and signals the kitchens for a meal.

Over lunch-dinner-whatever... actually, come to think of it, it’s breakfast for Keris... Naan makes peace with the twins. Mostly Kali, who several times tries to savage him again and Naan finds it all hilarious.

In the end, he starts encouraging her to attack again by paying her in scraps of meat whenever she does. Keris probably should have stepped in, but Ogin was being a drama queen and wordlessly demanding to eat some plain noodles.

Once he’s finished, he waves goodbye and slopes off again, kicking her door open when he leaves.

“Nan!” Kali says happily. “Grr!” Then she bites Keris.

“Ow!” Keris complains. “No! Naughty Kali! No biting mama!” She pauses. “No biting people in general, actually. Okay? Good girls don’t bite people who don’t deserve it. It’s not nice.”

Kali looks up. She’s obviously begging for treats. Sighing, Keris gets the honey dipper. “Promise no biting mama, okay? Do you promise?”

“Uh huh!” Kali says eagerly. Keris is fairly sure she has no intention of keeping to it. Still, she rewards her with a single blob of honey on the end of the dipper - which has the added bonus of keeping her occupied for a few minutes trying to get all the honey out of the grooves.

“And because you were a good boy and didn’t bite anyone, you get _two_ honey blobs,” she murmurs to Ogin. “Now, mama has to go and talk to big sister Calesco soon, so can you keep Kali from escaping her crib when I put you both down for a nap?”

“What’s in the present mama got?” Ogin asks, head tilted, rather than agree to that.

“... well, let’s see,” Keris replies, shifting him to her lap as she picks the box back up. A quick check confirms that yes, it’s from Ligier and no, it doesn’t smell like a grenade. She slots it open cautiously and takes in the contents.

Within the box is an intricate mechanism of crystal, brass, and all kinds of elaborate carvings. It’s about the size of Ogin’s head, and cradles a perfect brass sphere. There’s writing on the sphere.

“Keris,” it says.

“You will take this Brass Edictum with you to Creation. Orders shall be given to you through it. I will expect these orders to be carried out with all due haste. Remember our agreement.”

And under it is Ligier’s sigil.

Frowning, Keris considers this orb, and listens more closely, trying to ignore the sound of her babies. Ah. This is not too dissimilar to her Cherub Shrine - only this is a dedicated receiver, not a sending device.

She makes a face. Great. That’ll be a time sink - and one that will be unpredictable in its timing and unsympathetic to any projects she has going on. She’ll have to - urgh - plan fallbacks for if it relays anything before doing anything important or effort-intensive, just in case it does so when she’s halfway through a big investment.

“It’s a present that lets mama’s boss talk to her from far away,” she tells Ogin, closing the box again and - after a moment’s consideration - tucking it away in her hair rather than her Domain. “Very shiny and important.”

Ogin considers things. “Shiny,” he decides.

And that’s not the end of interruptions. Keris is just trying to settle a pair of over-excited babies down who’ve seen a lot of fun things today - and have a new baby sister and Kali keeps shouting ‘Addiya’ and looking around for her - when Mehuni oozes into the room, and bows.

“My lady,” he says in his sibilant voice, “Princess Orange Blossom has made herself known and wishes to see you at the next scream.”

“... well finally,” Keris huffs, somewhat thrown. “Wait, shit. Uh... okay, invite her to have it here, and set up the red room with the smoke fountain and the white gravel border for a distinguished guest. Four angyalkae, the best food and drinks we can supply... hmm. Keep it at that, though. I can’t out-money her - _yet_ \- but a ‘beautiful simplicity’ thing will help. Harpists in simple clothes, one of the low marble tables and a pair of cushioned seats, and a little perfume. No need for any dancers or entertainers.”

“By her invite, she is inviting you to her townhouse,” Mehuni observes. “Do you wish to counter-invite her?”

“Honestly, yes,” Keris says. “But I need her in a good mood, and... I’d rather keep her away from the twins. Fine, I’ll go to her. At least that way she’ll be paying for the food and drinks. Have the servants get my Harbourite dress ready for me, would you?”

Keris can’t deny she’s a little bit pleased that she can leave putting the twins to sleep up to a Gale, though the Gale she makes whines a bit that she’s the one who wound up split off.

But fully dressed up in her tiger dress with her hair lavishly decorated and make-up to cover the bags under her eyes, Keris sweeps out and jogs over to Orange Blossom’s townhouse.

She pauses before she steps into it. She has some happy memories here. Memories of the time before Orange Blossom revealed herself to be a big huge bitch. 

The townhouse is a jet black spire, rising up above the lakes and ornamental gardens that surround it. It seems perpetually shrouded in a haze that leaves the light within dimmer, and gauzy banners drape the black walls. While Keris’s townhouse sprawls outwards and Sasi’s is partly underground, Orange Blossom’s is a jagged tooth reaching up to the sky.

Keris sweeps into it in a storm of ruffles and folds and braided hair and golden beads; Rounen-made copies of the sorcerous notes from Malra tucked into a Domain-box for easy access. Though not the adamant gems, of course. Those, she’s keeping to herself.

The lady of the house is in, of course, and Keris trails up familiar - though redecorated - stairs and up into a sitting room built around a pool of ink shadow that devours the light. Silver gleams against the walls, framing fossil bones of long-dead species.

Orange Blossom is doing it deliberately. That pool... well, last time Keris was here, a different kind of devouring happened there. Not of light.

Keris’s eyes narrow and her hair rustles in annoyance, but she’s smiling pleasantly again as she’s ushered into the meeting room.

“Orange Blossom,” she greets her peer. “So good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to meet me.”

“And you have been busy, haven’t you?” Orange Blossom says. “How was Malra?”

She’s wearing something that looks like it might have been originally the clothes of some rich man in Nexus, but the entire cut has been feminised and narrowed in to show off her waist. It’s deep blue, reveals nothing and flaunts everything. An embroidered silver tiger spreads out over the jacket arm, matching her earrings.

“Awful,” Keris replies bluntly, settling into a chair. “I found what I was looking for, but... it wasn’t what I wanted. That’s not why I’m here, though. Did you know the naib is investigating you?” She watches Orange Blossom’s reaction closely. “He’s not sure what you are, but he’s suspicious. Rival Solar, Lunar... one of his guesses was even ‘demon’.”

She pauses. “Speaking of which, it’d have been really helpful if you’d _told_ me he was Sun-Chosen before I followed a trail up there. I mean, it didn’t cause me any trouble, but I’d have liked to have known in advance.”

“You weren’t meant to be in a position to involve yourself in that,” Orange Blossom says, flapping her hand in Keris’s direction. “Weren’t you meant to be around Vesha?” She doesn’t seem too surprised at the revelation that the naib is suspicious of her.

Keris purses her lips. “I was. But my parents weren’t there; they were taken. So, like I told you when you gave me Baisha’s location in the first place, I _followed the trail_.” She growls, low and unhappy. “It led up into the highlands, to Malra. A lot happened there.”

“Hmm.” Orange Blossom picks an unseen bit of dust off her sleeve. “I suppose that makes sense. Malra buys a lot of slaves. It always has, and the naib has been buying even more to fuel his war efforts with his silver mines.” She looks Keris directly in the eye. “And yes, his spies are very, very talented. Especially the ones the Jackal trains. Fortunately my own servants can sniff them out - the ones who’ve been granted sun power, at least - and I have some bribed contacts in the shahbanu’s forces who I report them to and let them claim the bounties on.”

“Mmm.” Keris smiles thinly. “Well, I have some good news and some bad news from my time there. Which do you want to hear first?”

“The bad, of course,” Orange Blossom says.

Keris nods, and braces herself. “There was a shahbanu attack while I was in the capital, looking for the last man responsible for murdering my mother. A creature of the Greater Dead, with some sort of spirit-blooded ally. It poisoned a number of the naib’s nobles - and me; I think I made it wary somehow - and then tore off its human disguise and put a claw through the high priestess’s ribcage. I had to flare my soul in the chaos that followed, and she recognised me as something Hell-tainted, though not what.”

Orange Blossom goes stiff. “You did _what_?” she snaps. “Oh, oh gods of fire and sky! You blundered into something like that?!” She blinks heavily. “I heard that Atrai was wounded in an assassination attempt - you were in the centre of that?”

Keris bares her teeth. “I was twenty feet away when it put a fist-sized hole through her chest; I couldn’t exactly make my polite excuses and leave! But,” she raises a finger, “you haven’t heard the good news yet - beyond me getting my target untraceably in the chaos, I mean.”

“What possible good news could there be after that?” Orange Blossom pinches the bridge of her nose. “Saride! Get in here!”

There’s the sound of feet, and a hidden door slides open. It’s a demon - tall, thin, and below the neck a gorgeous woman with prominent red tattoos covering her body. She wears misty gauzy clothing that covers almost nothing. Her head is covered behind an eyeless mask, though, and a crown of ruby horns rises out of her skull.

((E5, Essence that’s similar to Rathanite but only in some ways - it’s less formed, and has nothing Szorenic in it, but there’s some TED in there.))

“You called, my lady?” she enquires in a voice that’s deep for a woman.

Keris eyes Orange Blossom’s soul assessingly, and gives a slow nod before continuing.

“The good news,” she says, “is that with my cover blown and the istandar dead in a way that didn’t link back to me, I decided I might as well get something of use before making tracks away from Malra, and broke into the naib’s fortress. As well as getting away with a bunch of his personal sorcerous notes, I also took on a silver serpentine war-form in the middle of his private sanctum, demolished most of his golems, smashed down his pretty sun-door and crashed out through the top of the pyramid - stopping along the way to steal a moonsilver daiklave and yell something about the thieves of Malra being repaid in kind. And then when I ran, I led the canvaswing flights south. So, you know. If that thing was a trophy from Pershwa like I’m almost certain it was, they’re not going to be thinking ‘Hellish Exalt’, they’re going to be thinking ‘demon-tainted Pershwan Lunar’.”

She smiles smugly. “And if, you know, you agreed to keep that unavoidable little accident where I got poisoned and ambushed by a Greater Dead monster with no warning... quiet, I’d be happy to share all those notes I got from his innermost sanctum with you. The ones behind the kill-anything-not-Sun-Chosen-instantly sun door, from the private work-sanctum that he only allowed his personally made divine golems in, and didn’t even trust his human servants enough to let them enter.”

“I... you...”

“If you will, my lady, perhaps take a moment to calm down.” Saride moves almost silently in to take a seat beside her greater self, glowing with a faint luminance which Keris wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t _very_ familiar with Rathan doing the same thing.

((7 successes for Carmine Mantled Emissary))

“Certainly, if you made such things available to us, that’d certainly help us cover that up,” Saride says warmly. She sounds if she’s smiling, but Keris isn’t even sure if she has a mouth behind that mask. She can’t hear any lips. “But of course, the impact of such a theft - and such a unilateral decision to try to shift Malra’s attention like that is major. We’re going to have to report the shift in the circumstances here to the Unquestionable, and they are Unquestionable.” She pauses. “One shouldn’t lie to them, after all.”

Keris’s smirk twists. She’s aware of how potent Rathan is as backup, and the prospect of that being turned against _her_ is not at all welcome.

“Of course I’m not talking about lying to the Unquestionable,” she counters. “And I will of course make the notes available to you. I’m just saying that, from what I saw, the naib is a paranoid, reclusive man who prizes his safety above anything else. A blow like that to his sense of security will freak him out enough to have him pull back on his expansion to build up his defences - and I bet Orange Blossom can take advantage of that kind of lapse. And as well as that, the secret of the Infernals was _not_ revealed by my actions. They’ll be chasing a Lunar akuma southwards, not the truth that sits in Terema - which the naib was already suspicious about. Any explanation to our lords should emphasise those points.”

((Sooooo resisting CME or what?))   
((Hmm. No, I don’t think so. Keris is aware of it, so - heh - she thinks it will affect her less. Which is not the case, because she’s not spending WP or using her mental defence, but she’s allowed to be wrong about these things. And CME, as I recall, gets rid of prior negative feelings - so Keris isn’t feeling bitchy towards OB for this scene, just wary of Rathan-fu being applied against her.))   
((Yep. Well, you’d roll Cog + Politics and see if you can beat their successes. Not WP))   
((True, yes. But yeah, that fits with why she’s basically in defensive mode now; justifying why what she did wasn’t a fuck-up with the hopes that they accept it, rather than trying to blame it on OB for not giving her enough intel or whatever.))   
((Dammit, Keris’s Charmer vice makes her weak to things that say “why don’t we all get along and not hate each other”))

Saride spreads her hands. “Perhaps, perhaps. And I think - if you found useful things - I can probably persuade my greater self to,” she leans in, “stop spluttering and be sensible about things. But then again, it’s not like the two of you really have any _meaningful_ reasons to dislike one another. And she has said that you’re always very good at what you do.”

Despite herself, Keris preens. “Well, yes,” she agrees with a smile. “That sanctum was built to keep out the Jackal of Malra, and I got into it easily. I could have assassinated him there and then if I’d wanted to.”

She purses her lips, looking for any other useful wins she can drop. “I got rid of another advantage of his,” she shares, coming up with one. “I’m not handing it over, but he had a gemstone in there. An artifact. It was whispering - telling him fragments of conversations about him. Some of them were even in Tereman accents. I think it was some kind of scrying ball that let him spy on people talking about him.”

She smirks. “And given how _pissed_ he was when he noticed it missing; it wasn’t replaceable.”

Saride and Orange Blossom exchange looks - well, Orange Blossom looks at her soul’s mask.

“Now, _that_ is something worth my help,” Orange Blossom says, eyes lighting up. “Do you have it? As proof?”

“Uh... yes, somewhere,” Keris says. “I’ll have to dig it out of wherever I stored it, which could take a while, but I can show it to you or Saride in a scream or so if one of you comes by my townhouse.” She pauses, adding, “I’m not willing to part with it at the moment. Not until I see how much good it can do for me down in the Southwest.”

“I could offer a very good price for that,” Orange Blossom says.

“But of course, not having it in the naib’s hands is worth plenty,” Saride says quickly, holding her greater self’s hand.

“Ask me again at Calibration,” Keris demurs. “After I’ve had a chance to play with it. It might be that it’s too costly for me to make use of - we’ll see.”

“Well, if you pass over the notes and provide evidence that you’ve deprived the naib of his wretched, wretched spying device,” Saride says, “well, we might be able to leave your error out of our report. After all,” she tilts her head, “the Jackal is a very skilled spy. If he found out something he shouldn’t, that’s just a risk when going up against a Night caste...”

“He’s certainly _annoying_ ,” Keris grumbles. “I had to do a lot of manoeuvring around him. Though, heh. I got him out of the way _perfectly_ for that heist on the fortress. He fell for it beautifully.” She basks in the memory of her Gale-gambit for a moment, then comes back to attention. “I’ll find the scrying crystal, and...” reaching into her hair, she retracts it with a thick folder, “here are the notes I managed to grab from him. I didn’t have much time, because he was in the room with me and the alarms were going off by then, so it was a grab-what-was-in-reach sort of thing, but everything I got from his personal library is copied and cross-referenced there for you.”

Saride takes it, then curtseys. “Thank you very much, your highness,” she says. “Sorry for it being such a short visit, but myself, my greater self and the others need to consult on these matters - and no doubt likely send messages to our assets in Creation. I don’t want to ask you to leave so soon, but...” she leaves it hanging.

“Of course,” Keris nods, and rises, taking care to keep her skirt in order. “Lovely to meet you, Saride. And until next time, Orange Blossom.”

“Until next time,” Orange Blossom says shortly.

Keris leaves their presence, descending out of the dark tower and back into the green lit dome.

“Well,” she sighs. “That went... about as well as I expected. Now... where in the hells did I throw that crystal ball?”

Dulmea hums. “It was part of your big cache of stolen goods you left Malra with,” she says.

“Urgh. Probably in there with you somewhere, then. Set someone to find it, would you? And I’ll need a ritual to get it out, since it’s not in one of the boxes...”

Mumbling to herself and planning how soon she can set off for Creation and Sasi again after the few things she has left to do, Keris heads back home.

Of course, Keris doesn’t have time to think about her meeting with Orange Blossom. She gets out of it and is immediately confronted by her Gale as soon as she gets home. Atiya is coughing and a medical examination reveals that she’s managed to breathe in some of the milk that she was being fed. Her weak lungs can’t clear it and she’s coughing and coughing.

Keris leaps into action, gently using root-tendrils to clear the milk out of her baby’s lungs and then holding her against her chest, skin-to-skin, and rubbing her back to help her breathe.

Taking care of a baby this frail is a very stressful experience.

Rounen is back, and has already produced summarised notes on the books he recovered.

“Weeks-to-months?” the Gale says, horror in her eyes. “It’ll be that long before she can even feed for herself? But Kali and Ogin did it as soon as I gave birth!” She pauses. “She. We. As soon as they were born!”

“Why can’t babies grow up faster?” Keris herself moans, careful not to disturb the little red form she’s cradling against her chest under her jacket and shirt. “I swear I grew up faster than this. Oh, uh... what about long-term? When will she catch up to other kids in how healthy she is?”

Rounen shuffles the notes. “I’m afraid not,” he says gravely. “She may have troubles or delays in physical development, learning, communicating with others, getting along with others, and/or taking care of herself. She may also have long term behavioural problems, problems with how her hun is seated in her mind resulting in problems with coordination, risks of weaver’s lung and other chronic lung abnormalities, digestive problems, risks of infection, vision problems, hearing loss, and problems with her teeth.”

Both Keris and the Gale pale at that. They exchange glances.

“It’s... she’s stubborn, though,” says Keris. “Incredibly strong. She’ll be an exception to the usual rules.”

“And... she’s likely to Exalt,” her Gale adds. “When her Dragon’s blood awakens-”

“If,” Keris corrects, because as much as she hopes and _prays_ for that, Sasi is a pretty potent reminder that sometimes even the best breeding in the world can’t guarantee that the Dragon’s blood will catch.

“Fine, _if_ , but that should... fix things, right? Our rebirth fixed us.”

“These aren’t certain, ma’am,” Rounen says, with a bow. “These are just things seen among human babies born before their full term is up. She may only display some of these - and her neomah-wrought origin might make her more or less susceptible to them.”

Keris grimaces, stroking her daughter’s hair as she nuzzles weakly into the curve of Keris’s breast. She has to be so _careful_ with Atiya. It feels like she’s always checking herself, second-guessing what she’s doing, worrying that she’s holding too tight or patting too hard or moving too fast.

It’s terrifying, feeling this fragile little life in her arms and realising how utterly dependent on her it is. Kali and Ogin were the same at first... but even just after the birth, they could at least _breathe_ relatively well, and feed.

“Have...” she starts shakily. “Uh, h-have a message sent to Asarin’s kingdom. Tell my children we’ll be returning home soon, and that they’re to come back to the townhouse. I’m going to... meditate.”

Rounen nods. “As you wish, ma’am. Will there be anything else?”

“Have you written up an accounting of my winnings from the Street of Golden Lanterns?”

“Not at present.” He gives her a soulful look. “You have rather kept me busy, ma’am.”

“I have, and you’ve been invaluable,” Keris tells him, holding his gaze. “It’s not important right away, but if you have time before we leave I want to look over what I won and hear any ideas you have on what I could do with it.”

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll go to the kitchens, eat, and get some sleep, and start in it next time I wake.”

“Good. Oh, and remind me when we get back to Saata that you need some sort of badge of office. A ceremonial sword or brooch... maybe a uniform. Something handmade by me to show you’re my highest aide.” Keris flashes him a smile. “Can’t have people forgetting, after all.”

Rounen all but purrs. “Of course, ma’am. By your leave, then.”

Keris nods, dismissing him, and her Gale follows him to check on Kali and Ogin, neither of whom are terribly inclined at the moment to stay still and peaceful while mama meditates. Atiya, though, will quite happily stay snuggled against Keris’s chest for the duration. And the skin contact is good for her.

Settling down in a chair and letting her fingers take up a repetitive, soothing motion up and down Atiya’s back, Keris closes her eyes and lets herself drift inward.

Her reluctance means she doesn’t wake in the City. She instead finds herself in the Swamp. Perhaps it’s because she’s missing Haneyl. 

But it’s not a bit of the Swamp she’s familiar with. It’s remarkably close to the Fogwall, and she’s right at the border with the Isles. The vegetation here is short and stumpy, and low intermittent green fires burn all over the landscape. It’s like it hasn’t recovered from Haneyl’s evolution last Calibration. The fires are still hanging around, right at the border with the Isles, and the rivers and inlets glow green with the slow-burning flames that run along the riverbeds.

Indeed, those fires are feeding the steam that merges with the fog wall, forming the border between here and the Edgelands.

Odd, Keris decides after touring the area for a bit. Most definitely odd. She heads inward along the coast, keeping an eye out for any settlements or citizens.

The first settlement she comes to isn’t much of a town - definitely not compared to the work that Rounen is putting in close to the City. It’s more like something you’d see in the Ruin from how...

Keris looks for ways to put this that aren’t “lazy”, but can’t find anything.

It’s tents, shaped trees, and paper plants, around an open arena. There are a number of sziromkeruby here, as well as a good number of matuzyiks. The lizard-wolf demons have been yoked and are being used to pull wood around when they’re not lazing on patches of bare earth. Of which there are a great number here.

Oh, and there are angyalkae. Plenty of angyalkae. Which means the sziromkeruby are super hyped up and running around madly to the harp music.

Keris recognises the one at the centre who’s spinning in circles on a little stone stage. It’s Saji, with her characteristic daisy-yellow petals and white flame. And now she looks closer, she can recognise some of the others from being from Saji’s faction at court.

“Saji!” she hails, coming to a stop at the edge of the circle a fair distance away from the pollen-clouds the excited petal-cherubs are shedding in their dance. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Whee!” Saji spirals out to Keris, still spinning in circles, before collapsing on the ground in front of her. “Heya, Hanny’s mum!” she says brightly. “I had a fight with Elly who’s being stupid and fat and mean and complained about me reading her books and folding the pages back so I came out here with my friends so we could just have a place to dance and do fun stuff and we’re going to tell Hanny that we’re going to build a new castle here so the snake doesn’t steal this land!

She tries to sit up, and fails. “But it turns out building castles is super boring. And hard! So we’ve been moving some rocks in place when we remember!” She sniffs. “If Rounen the Boring can do it, we can too!”

Keris eyes her quietly. Her flame had been dominating her even last time Keris saw her - now, it seems like every petal is alight within. Whispers of white fire escape between them in places, dancing up her petals before petering out - as if her flower-nature can barely contain them.

“So you’ve been keeping the fires here burning, then?” Keris asks. “And I know Rounen is sitting near the City... does that mean Elly went Meadow-wards?” She can’t imagine that they’re still close by one another. Not with the lack of any open warfare she’s noticed.

“Yeah, think so,” Saji says, flapping her hand idly up above her. “And yeah! The land didn’t want the plants! It wanted fire! Fire for everything! An’ an’ an’ it stops the plants from drinking all the water at the border!”

“Impressive,” Keris says approvingly. “Well, we’re going to be heading back to Creation soon, so it won’t be long before you get to see Haneyl again.” And probably undergo a metamorphosis like Oula’s and Rounen’s, she doesn’t say. Though Makers alone know what Saji’s will look like.

“Yaaaaaaay!” Saji calls out, not getting up. “I think I’m going to sleep for aaaaaaaaages again. Night, Hanny’s mum.”

Keris waves her off, and heads further towards, thinking. hard. Haneyl’s court is diverging in her absence - what will it be like to see her again? She’s missed her hot-tempered little girl terribly, and can’t help but wonder what she’ll think of her new little siblings. Of her new cousin and aunt and uncle, for that matter.

But of course, that leads her back to thinking about motherhood, and the reason she’s here.

The City rises before her as she sprints towards her, towards the three-spired harp tower. Pausing only to pet a well-fed city kat that’s lazing around by Dulmea’s window, she enters the main room and finds her mother standing there, pouring over maps.

“I heard you were coming and the tea is just brewing,” Dulmea says, without turning around.

“Thank you,” Keris says, settling into seiza automatically and playing a melody to complement Dulmea’s own. Her notes are hesitant; a little conflicted, as she sits and waits for the tea to be ready.

“So,” Dulmea begins, pouring a bright green tea with her hair, “I haven’t had you to myself for a while. That’s nice. Are you sure you don’t want a sleep after your time with Lady Lilunu and Oula, though?”

There’s a slightly wicked smile on her lips. One that indicates that maybe she’s enjoying Keris’s suffering and considers it to be her own fault.

“I’m... mostly recovered from that,” Keris mumbles. “And anyway, I can’t leave Atiya alone for long.”

Dulmea sighs, a minor element entering her music. “Yes. The neomah can be unreliable. Imperfect. Other houses would sometimes try to merge more... violent demons into their assassins. It seldom ended well.”

“I feel... guilty. Like I promised Kerisa better than this, and I failed because I got too... I dunno. Greedy? Ambitious? I wanted her to have the dragon’s blood... and to be mine. And to be the High Queen’s. And to inherit those souls; Kerisa’s and... and mama’s.”

Keris hugs herself, her music turning miserable. “And now she’s the one paying for it.”

“It was your choice,” Dulmea says. “I can’t offer forgiveness - and she can’t either, because who she was is lost to rebirth. We will just have to live with it.”

Keris is quiet for a while as she sips her tea, thinking.

“How did you do it?” she asks, at length. “Getting... me, and then my children, to look after. Suddenly being a mother to... I mean, I was a mess back then. How did you know you wouldn’t get something wrong?”

Dulmea raises her tea, swirling it. “I didn’t,” she says simply. “I went to pieces when you decided I would be your mother, and it took me a long time to accept it.” She scowls. “And the less said about Zana, the better. You had me carry one of your souls and give birth to her. I have absolutely no interest in that aspect of human - or demonic - behaviour.”

Keris blushes and looks down. “But... when m- when I was with... Maryam. You didn’t like that.”

“That,” Dulmea pauses. “That was something else. She was awful, child. She was awful to you, and awful for you. And I have come to care for you - you know that - and I could see that you were chained by obligations that were hurting you.”

A shy smile blooms in response to the point about caring for Keris, though it soon fades away. “Is it...” Keris starts hesitantly. “Xasan said that there was nothing left of her. But... I think there was. Like with Kerisa. What she was planning there at the end; it was the same kind of plan as she always had, in his stories. Even in the very first one, when she demanded she come with him to Taira and said it would be easy. It was still _her_. She just... lost parts. And I couldn’t just _stop loving_ her for that, not when... when it was still her at heart. You know?”

She sniffs, a lost, confused expression on her face and in her chords as she works through her tangled feelings. “It was all I could do just to stop her ship. But... that ended up killing her. And that was my fault, even... even if I didn’t mean it.”

“Those are your feelings. I think you’re wrong and that you’re better off without her in your life, but I don’t think you’re going to be convinced otherwise.” Dulmea sounds sad as she says this. “Do you think there is anything you could have done differently that would have changed how things went?”

Keris looks down. “Lots of things,” she says. “But... change it how? If I’d listened to her more, if I’d done what she wanted, she wouldn’t have got angry at me - she’d have seen me as an ally... but all those people would have died. I’d have had to fight Ney - probably kill him. And... and in the end... I don’t know if she’d have gone on even if she felt I’d avenged her properly.”

The hair that isn’t involved in playing twines around her again in a self-hug. “I don’t think I could have done things better,” Keris concludes sadly. “Only worse, or different.”

Dulmea shakes her head. “At least that’s something. And I do think your willingness to talk to your uncle is a sign that perhaps you’re coming around on the topic.”

“I’m sorry,” Keris blurts into her teacup, almost hiding behind it. “For... for making you watch, the whole time. For not listening to you more. I knew you were upset, but I never really tried to talk to you about it - and even if I hadn’t listened, I should at least have, um, heard you out. At the time, I mean. So... I’m sorry. Mama.” She looks up hopefully over the rim of her cup as she adds the last word, her hair rippling nervously.

“Life with you, child,” Dulmea says, “is full of you making mistakes. I think I just have to accept it - and scold you when you do.”

That gets a giggle, and Keris pours and finishes another cup in comfortable musical harmony before glancing out toward the edges of her inner world.

“Is Calesco still trying to get out?” she ventures.

“Periodically,” Dulmea says, glancing towards the window. “Mostly when you sleep, or meditate. No doubt she will try again because you are in here. Look for the flashes of light in the fog.”

Keris takes a deep breath. “Any, um, advice? Before I go talk to her? I’m going to try not to maim myself on her this time, before you say it.”

Dulmea sighs. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave her longer?”

“I think leaving painful relationships alone and letting them be that way and trying not to touch the hurting parts didn’t work out well for me in Malra, so... I’m trying this,” says Keris wryly. “If nothing else, I hope she’ll want to hear about Atiya. Though, uh. Not the... way she was greeted after being born.”

Dulmea shudders. “I don’t wish to think about that myself.”

Keris nods; in full agreement. It’s perhaps a bit of a failing on her “don’t just avoid painful or scary topics” thing, but... yeah, she can deal with the weight of that prophecy later. Much later.

Maybe never, if that’s an option.

“Well then,” she says, after finishing her third cup and coming to the conclusion that putting off going after Calesco any longer will cross into outright stalling, “I should go find my daughter. Thank you for tea, mama.”

“You might want to wake and feed Atiya,” Dulmea advises, “then go and see her then. You don’t want to be woken by Atiya if engaging with her. And remember - do not flare your soul with such a fragile child tucked in so close.”

Keris nods. “Right. Wish me luck?”

“I would rather see you show good judgement,” Dulmea says. “But yes, luck.”

Keris opens her eyes in the world without and runs through her by-now familiar checks on Atiya. Feeding her is slower and messier than it is with Kali and Ogin, but does come with much less risk of biting, which is a definite plus. Soon enough she’s sated and settled back against Keris’s shoulder, as her mother prepares for a much less civil and comforting meditation.

Once again Keris plunges into her soul. This time she lands in the border between the Swamp and the Meadows. Once again, there are changes here she hasn’t seen before. The trees and bushes here are taller and... they can’t be old, but they look old. The trees are taller, more warped, and there are bulging growths on them. The swampy parts are thick and gloopy - approaching becoming Meadows-tar - and the green fires are rare and dull when they are seen. It’s dark here - darker than most of the true Meadows, with the thick overhead canopy.

The air smells of blood.

But there’s no time to go hunting to see if her suspicions that Elly is here are right, because there’s a flash of painfully bright white light within the mist, diffused by the greyness. And a deep hooting wail echoes across the landscape, sounding like her po.

If Keris _weren’t_ cradling a fragile, delicate, heartbreakingly vulnerable child against her very skin in the real world; this would be the point where she would flare her soul to get Calesco’s attention.

As it is, she’s forced instead to tree-hop her way along the border - outward, this time, towards that place of mist and fog and ruined Nexan streets, grown to the point that she sees them from a child’s stature.

It’s a harsh contrast to the City; made harsher by the open violence she can hear from beyond the piles of rubble and patchwork buildings. At least the mist itself no longer hinders her -it’s clear as glass, and while it adds a muted flatness to the sound that travels through it; it doesn’t muffle it as it used to before she learned its ways.

Soon she finds the first arrow. It’s spear-sized, and fletched with white feathers. It’s tipped with another feather - razor sharp. With an impressed whistle, Keris lines up its trajectory - and realises it passed through three walls to embed itself in this one. Its fletching has left cuts in the walls.

It has to be Calesco’s - a spear-sized arrow fletched with her own feathers.

She winces, imagining what Calesco is doing to... well, to her, right now. Trying to pierce and cut her way out with lethal force, evidently - and Keris isn’t willing to use lethal force back. No doubt she’ll find serpent-blood staining the ground soon.

She speeds up.

Ice glitters on the surfaces. And that’s where she finds Calesco, squirming and thrashing, frozen up to the neck in beautiful, shimmering ice. Her hair looks almost grey from the mix of white and black in it.

Keris’s po soul looms over her, a number of arrows protruding from her flank. She glances at Keris, huffs, and flicks out her tongue - on which rests Calesco’s bow. Her intention is clear. She’s keeping the painful thing until it stops making pain.

Then she vanishes off into the mists, a number of po-Gales riding on her back.

Calesco screams an incoherent scream, and thrashes again. Ice crackles, and bright white light comes and goes.

“Calesco!” Keris calls, springing up the ice to where her daughter is trapped. “Calesco, stop struggling, please. Just talk to me.”

“You did this to me!” Calesco screams. “You took my bow! You took it away! And you won’t _let me out_!”

“I won’t let you out to do something you’ll regret later!” Keris parries back forcefully. “I won’t let you out to get _revenge_ for being hurt, because I’ve _seen_ where that can lead in our family, and the last time I loved someone like you love Kuha and hated her for causing me pain at the same time, I _cut her heart out and crushed it into a bangle and fed her body to the dogs!_ I won’t let you risk doing that to someone you’d hate yourself for doing it to.”

“So it’s not different when you do it?” Calesco spits at her. “You’re a hypocrite! Rathan gets it from you!”

“I’m trying to keep you from making my mistakes!” Keris retorts. “I know you’re hurting, baby, but this isn’t the way to make it better!”

“Yes it will! I’ll teach her not to shun me! Not to get distracted by every neomah harlot that catches her eye!” Calesco wails.

“And will that get back how happy you were?” Keris asks, kneeling down on the ice spire to better level her eyes with Calesco’s. “I’m sorry this happened, sweetheart, I’m _so_ sorry. You were so happy that day. I wished I could do anything but tell you, to spare you this. But hurting Kuha won’t... it won’t get you that happiness back. Any more than revenge on the istandar got mama back for me.”

“Pretty words because you love her more than me!” Calesco snaps.

“I don’t,” Keris says, almost sad. “I don’t love her at all anymore. I let it go, because if I hadn’t I’d have... I don’t know. Maimed her, maybe. _Something_ painful enough to teach her how badly she’d hurt you.”

“Well, maybe you should have! Then she... she wouldn’t have hurt me like this!” Shining bright tears roll down Calesco’s cheek, leaving shadow in their wake.

Keris strokes her hair, doing her best to avoid cutting herself on the razor-like strands of white in among the black.

“It hurts,” she sympathises softly. “Losing someone you love. I wasn’t angry at... at Rat, when he vanished. He didn’t betray me; he just vanished. But Orange Blossom... she did. I promise, darling, it does hurt less. Eventually. And... if you find something else to throw yourself into; something that isn’t lingering on the wound and picking at the scab... that can make it hurt less faster. I’m not trying to distract you, or convince you to drop your grudge. I just want to help you stop hurting.”

There’s a cracking of ice, and Calesco gets an arm free. Keris only realises it later because right then there’s a cutting slap. “Don’t you dare patronise me!” Calesco screams, crying violently.

She reels back, swearing, and grabs Calesco’s hand blindly to stop a second slap. “I’m _not!_ ” she insists. “Rot and _dust_ , Calesco, I’m worried enough about Atiya! I can’t handle _two_ of my daughters hurting right now! Please, _please_ let me help you!”

“That’s a low blow,” Calesco hisses, shadows washing over her. Her light is fading, though her bright burning tears are still cutting through the shadows when they come. “I... you...” The words are lost in burbling.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Keris says, exhausted. “Look... you’re tired. Let me get you out of the ice. Come eat with me. If nothing else... if _nothing else_ , you need to at least _eat_ , even if you throw everything I say aside and come right back out here afterwards. Let me feed you. Let me tell you about your new baby sister. Let me - _please_ \- let me do something for you. Please, Calesco.”

“I... I’m just tired,” Calesco whispers. “She doesn’t love me. I don’t want to hate her. I want her.”

“I know,” Keris agrees. She thinks of Orange Blossom. She thinks of Maryam. She thinks, fleetingly, of Rat. “I know. I’m sorry you’re... you’re so much my daughter.” Drawing Ascending Air, she cuts away at the ice, freeing Calesco’s other arm - then her wings, and torso, until she can wriggle free with the aid of a pull from Keris.

“Come eat with me,” she repeats. “And I can tell you about Kerisa’s rebirth.”

Calesco, cloaked in tattered shoulders, sobs into her shoulder - but at least she’s small enough to carry.

Keris takes her back to her cave and settles her into what looks like a large round waterproof bag of waxed canvas with a few soft rugs thrown over it. It appears to be full of tar, given how it moulds around Calesco and lets her sink into it. Keris quickly darts out and finds a nearby szulo, asks the ape-like demon to find some food for her exhausted daughter, and returns to cover Calesco with another blanket, clean the remaining ice off her and get her out of the shreds of what she was wearing. Several screams of combat have not been kind to her garb - though luckily Keris lays her hands on enough blankets in the cave to swaddle her up nicely.

“We can go back to that bathhouse once you’ve eaten, and find the hot water tub,” she promises. “That’ll get you all warm again.”

“I’m going to get you back for this,” Calesco whispers. She pauses, choking back sobs. “Someday. Sometime. When you’re safe and comfortable and aren’t looking for it. When you aren’t having to look after an ill baby who needs you more than I do.”

“That can wait until then,” Keris replies, rather hoping Calesco will forget that particular promise after she calms down. “And the way I see it, just because Atiya needs constant care right now doesn’t mean you don’t need me plenty too.”

“I won’t die if you ignore me for a few hours. She might,” Calesco says, wiping her eyes roughly. “And your broken sleep and constant worries are your own fault for not making her just be a normal child carrying your blood. She would have been fine if you hadn’t been selfish.”

That’s the Calesco she knows.

“I know,” agrees Keris. “And someday I’ll have to tell her that and ask her to forgive me. But that, too, will have to wait until then. She’s freshly fed and soothed and is resting in my arms, and I’m here with you.” She hugs Calesco awkwardly - given the obstruction of the tar-chair - with an eye to how bristly and touch-averse her daughter is feeling in this raw state of mind.

Keris gets glared at by quite a few of the mezkeruby who show up to visit Calesco and who are bringing honey and treats. The little tar demons do love Calesco - and seem to know already that it’s Keris’s fault at least in part that she’s upset.

“Why did you make her cry?” It’s a male tar-cherub, and something about him seems familiar. Is it the mask? It’s a full one covering all his features, and looks like an owl.

Keris endures the glare, and meekly submits to the scolding. “I told her something that hurt her to hear,” is her reply. “One of... her kind of truths,” she adds, thinking back to Calesco leading her to her mother’s tree. “I didn’t want to tell her it, because I knew it would hurt her, but... I thought that not telling her would hurt her worse, later on, when she found out anyway.”

She frowns, casting her mind back across her previous visits to the Meadows. He definitely seems familiar, though she can’t place him exactly - ah, she realises. But his mask wouldn't have been this big the last time she saw him, since the masks seem to grow as they get older. So she might have seen him when it was a good deal smaller...

Except no, it was even longer ago than that, she remembers suddenly. He didn’t have a mask at all then. But the voice is the same. He’s Vela, the little - well, not so little now - tar cherub who scolded her first time she saw Calesco’s features. But back then he was much shorter, and there wasn’t even the hint of a mask on his features. Now it’s the fullest one she’s ever seen.

“You’re Vela, right?” she confirms. “I’m sorry for making Calesco upset.”

“This isn’t the first time,” he says, voice soft. Almost threatening. “Why do you keep making her cry?”

Keris sighs. “Because I’m her link to the world outside. And the world outside isn’t very fair. And that... makes Calesco unhappy. And me, too. I’m just better at hiding it.”

The owl-masked kerub glares at her. “Well, that’s not very nice! Or fair!”

“I know.” Keris takes a deep breath, and pastes on a smile. “But I’m doing my best to help change it. And I think after she’s had something to eat and warmed up, Calesco will be hurting less - and if she has something to do like teaching or helping build more villages, she might not get so sad again.”

“But she will get sad again.” It’s a flat confirmation.

“Everyone does. Happy, sad... you can’t stay feeling just one thing forever. She’ll get sad again, but I think she’ll also get happy again - and I saw her being really, really happy before this mess. So I’ll try to make sure she gets that feeling back.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, so Keris turns around and pays attention to her daughter again.

Then she hears the whisper over her shoulder. “Then my Happening... is a lie.” A whisper - not to anyone. He laughs. It’s a slow chuckle, like someone who’s finally seen the joke.

And then there’s a thud and a crack. And again. And again. Keris turns, only to see Vela smash his masked face into the stone walls of the cave again.

((God _dammit_ I _knew_ that was coming.))

“Vela!” she yelps, scrambling to reach him and hold him back. “What are you doing?”

Before she gets there, he manages to slam it into the stone again. A chunk of white bone falls down, and hits the soft ground with a splat.

Keris pulls him around, and sees where the owl mask is missing. There’s a face under the mask - a single eye, red irised, with pale skin around it.

“The Happening is just a lie to keep us happy,” he whispers, still chuckling. “A thing for babies. It’s never going to happen. I saw I’d stop her ever being sad again. But it can never happen. It’s all a joke.”

His tarry body is growing and swelling up to adulthood, and strips of tar are peeling away. Like rubber, or latex. And the cracks are spreading across his mask. It’s falling apart.

Freezing, Keris can’t help but hesitate. She can see what’s happening now. This is a keruby maturation, like Oula. Like Rounen.

But where Oula learned to give her heart away and took on Rathan’s demand for fairness in having it returns, where Rounen gained bureaucratic skills and a warped mirror of Haneyl’s neuroses... Vela is taking on something much darker from Calesco. Something far more bitter and painful.

“Vela,” she whispers, reaching out.

He sticks growing arms that are sprouting feathers into the crack of the mask, and pulls. The mask cracks further, further, and more falls away. He swells up, up, up, as pale skin reveals itself from under peeling blackness, and now he’s taller than Keris, even hunched over.

There’s one thing that sticks with Keris, though, and that’s the despairing “No!” she hears from Calesco.

And now Vela is in front of her, naked and feathered, with eyes that almost glow a dull red. His face under the mask is beautiful in a cold, clinical way, and there’s something of the owl and the hawk in how he looks around, flashing sharp white teeth. His long hair cascades down to his knees, and has white feathers in it. And his arms are now wings, feathered and touching the ground, with claw-like manipulators at the tip.

The other mezkeruby watch in awe - and terror. Some of them are crying. And so is Calesco.

“No,” she whispers. “No. You... you weren’t meant to be like _me_.”

Vela approaches her. He kneels before her chair. “Lies cannot last forever.” His face shines with seraphic honesty. “I am your truth, Calesco. My mask was how I tried to hide from it. But that was the act of a child, and I am a child no longer. I will see your laws enforced.”

There’s despair - and a hint of madness - in her daughter’s eyes. “You weren’t meant to have to hurt like me! All... all my keruby... they’ve got... they’ve got _me_ in them!” She covers her eyes, as a fresh wave of tears comes.

Keris can only hold her hand, and join in the tears.

Vela reaches out with a wing, and wipes away the tears with soft silky feathers. “Shh, my lady. No more tears.” He turns, and stalks out of the cave, leaving bird like footprints in the soft ground. “I will head to the border with the Ruin. I will make sure the szelkeruby know that their murderous, thieving ways are not welcome here. If they will come, they must come in peace.”

“I’m sorry, Calesco,” Keris whispers, broken-hearted at her daughter’s new pain. “I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s _not_.”

There’s only tears from her. “All of them,” she whispers. “All of them c-can be like that. M-my innocents, mama. My little innocent ones...”

“I know, darling,” Keris soothes - thinking of Akhmi, back in Malra, of _Rounen_ ; so nearly a mezkerub herself, who was only spared this because he’d already changed aspect before coming to live in the Meadows. “You can... you can at least try your best to protect them from growing up, then. Make sure their dreams aren’t shattered. Make sure their masks don’t break.”

Keris hugs her daughter and rocks her to sleep.

And then she has to wake, because the gasping, oh so tiny, sickly baby down her front is trying to cry through too-weak lungs. She needs cleaning, and feeding again.

((OK, this is probably the end-point for the arc, so you can provide Keris’s thematic statement for the arc and, lol, ‘hybrid vigour’.))   
((h8 u))   
((Just to satisfy my curiosity; did you roll for Xia’s crafting? Was there a chance that she pulled it off flawlessly; if she’d managed enough successes?))   
((Yes. I did roll for it. And when it comes up, I will pull out the roll))   
((o u))

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for the briefest of moments... and gets to work.

Kali and Ogin thrive on their mixed heritage. Haneyl has to balance hers with utmost care. Calesco hates half of what went into her, while Vali exults in his explosive mix of humours.

Atiya got unlucky. There’s disharmony in the notes and chords that form her melody. But Keris more than anyone knows that the hand you’re dealt at birth doesn’t have to be the one you play your life with.

She’ll turn things around for her youngest child. It’ll just take work. A lot of work, yes. But she swears, as she works to clean and change swaddling clothes and coax milk into a too-small stomach and help undersized lungs to breathe - Keris _swears_ she’ll be a better parent than Maryam showed herself to be in Malra.


End file.
